Pressure
by Midnight Lion
Summary: The Reapers are here. Shepard struggles with fear for her mother, guilt over being alive, and interspecies grudges. She can't unite the galaxy, or sort out her love life. At least she has a good friend to lean on. F!Shep/Kaidan, F!Shep/Thane
1. Nightmares: Shepard

**Nightmares: Shepard**

This is her first nightmare.

She's never had dreams before. Everything the Shepard family does is shipshape and Bristol fashion. Neat. Efficient. Militaristic. They sleep because they have to.

In her first nightmare, the boy she failed is on fire. In her first nightmare, the expression in his young eyes is unreadable and frightening. In her first nightmare, there are shadows, and trees, and whispers, whispers, _whispers_.

Earth was supposed to be the safe place. No slavers or pirates, like in the colonies. No enemy ships and endless vacuum, like in space. Earth is burning. Her mother is probably dead, and all Shepard can think is that Captain Hannah Shepard must have died believing that her daughter was a disgrace. A murderer.

If she's the last Shepard, her dog tags will break her neck with the weight of what that means.

Shepard buries her face in her hands for a moment. She didn't bother to undress before she fell asleep—

(Can you really call it sleep when you wake feeling more tired than you were before? How does anyone bear dreaming?)

In any case, she didn't bother to undress before she fell asleep. She is dressed and ready to act in the uniform she wore to meet with the Council—

(The Council. What good are they? Why did she bother saving them all those months… years…? When did Sovereign attack the Citadel? Does it even matter? Shepard is tired of being told that humanity will have to fend for itself.)

She might as well be awake. There is so much work to do. She needs to talk to Joker about the approach to Palaven. There are questions to ask EDI about the _Normandy's _retrofits, like where her personal belongings went. She needs to talk to Vega about getting her hands on an assault rifle. There are questions to ask about the new shuttle, like who's the proper pilot.

What Shepard wants to do is go hide in the cargo bay. If she finds a small corner, draws her knees up to her chest, and rubs her eyes with her fists when she cries, her mother will come find her. The way she always does. 'Big Shepard' will stare down sternly at 'Baby Shepard,' before scooping her up with a sigh. The rest of the crew will think that Big Shepard is irritated with her little one, but on the walk back to their cabin, Big Shepard will sing under her breath to Baby Shepard in off-key tones that mean _I love you. _When Baby Shepard stops crying, she'll tell her mother who was mean to her, and Big Shepard will teach her how to protect herself. Then, they'll sleep without dreams.

**…**

There's a knock on the cabin door.

For a moment, Shepard thinks it must be Kaidan. He is always knocking on doors. Most soldiers prefer to barge in, or use an intercom, but Kaidan knocks. He's so old-fashioned. Does she think that's charming?

Then she remembers it can't be Kaidan. He's in a hospital on the Citadel. The Cerberus mech broke him into little bits.

Shepard squares her shoulders as she opens the door, ready to be tough.

It's only Liara. Shepard lets herself slouch. Liara's seen Shepard when the human was nothing more than meat and tubes. There's no need to hide.

"Hey. What's up, Liara?" She steps out into the alcove in front of the elevator. She doesn't want to stay in her cabin. What if it's something in there that caused the nightmares?

Liara says something about the Prothean device, or the turians. Something about information.

(How can she be working? When does Liara sleep? Does something keep her awake? Does she have nightmares? Or is she just that much better at focusing on saving the world that sleep doesn't matter anymore? Maybe it's not so mysterious. Maybe it's a difference in asari biology).

Oh. That last thing she said was a question. Shepard turns from where she's been leaning.

"Are you all right?" Liara repeats. She steps closer to Shepard. Shepard steps away. She is afraid to let Liara too close. What if these nightmares are something she can catch? The memory feels like a sickness.

"I didn't get what you'd call a good night's rest."

A line appears between Liara's eyes. Now Shepard has made her worry. "There is more to it than that," she insists. "What is really bothering you?" She steps closer to Shepard. Shepard stays still, hands twisting nervously.

Shepard forces herself to smile. No need to worry about her. Dreams fade, the way everything does. There are more important things that need attention than what is really bothering one foolish soldier. Nightmares are something children get, not adults. "How much time do you have?" she tries to dodge the question.

Liara crosses her arms. "As much time as you need me to have."

It's too hard to keep lying when faced with those concerned blue eyes. Shepard looks away. "When the Reapers hit… I could hear people screaming in the streets below me." She tries looking at Liara. "I left them all behind."

It occurs to Shepard that this actually is what's bothering her. That she didn't think to look for Big Shepard until the _Normandy_ had already left Earth behind.

"You could not have stayed," Liara says gently. Pragmatically. "Right now, you need to be here, getting support for Earth." She reaches out slowly, as though Shepard might shy away, and touches the commander's arm. "You will get back there in time to help."

Shepard stops moving her own hands. Liara pulls away. Shepard instantly misses the reassuring contact. "I—" she begins.

The elevator beeps. Someone else is coming up. Shepard straightens her spine.

Time to wake up. The Reapers are here.


	2. Beginning: Liara

**Beginnings: Liara**

"I meant to visit, but…."

Shepard smiles. "You know, if you tell me that trying to find a way to save the galaxy was more important, I'll agree with you right now. But when I get back to the _Normandy,_ I'll take a long shower and cry, like teenagers do in the vids."

The human always jokes. Liara likes that, now that she has an ear for the commander's sense of humor. When she first met Shepard, she didn't understand the woman at all.

It is just like old times, fighting Cerberus troops with Shepard and Kaidan. Except that Liara is determined now, not afraid. Except that the stakes are higher than ever. Except that Kaidan and the commander fight because he does not trust her.

When Kaidan goes to look for a Cerberus comm link, Liara gives Shepard a knowing smirk.

"What?"

"Major Alenko has become very capable."

Shepard blinks. "He was always capable."

"True." If Shepard does not want to share, Liara will not pry. She can find out how the commander feels about the major once she gets back in touch with her information network, anyway.

Kaidan calls out to the commander. Shepard leaves, and soon Liara can hear more arguing.

She wonders if Kaidan is so bad-tempered because he knows about Thane Krios.

**…**

When Kaidan is injured, Shepard stops functioning. She stares at the battered man with unfocused eyes.

"Kaidan needs medical attention!" Liara snaps her fingers in front of Shepard's face. "We have to leave the Sol system."

It takes a moment for the human to understand her words. After too many seconds tick by, Shepard finally nods.

"We need to get to the Citadel," Liara prompts.

"Joker!" Shepard sounds panicked. "Get us to the Citadel!" She holds Kaidan's hand. "Hold on, Kaidan," she whispers.

Liara wonders if Thane knows about Kaidan Alenko.

**…**

Why does she always expect meetings with the Council to go well? They never do. It is unbelievable that having a human on the Council has not changed anything. When Liara says as much to Shepard, Shepard laughs and laughs.

"If Earth were safe, and someone else was being attacked, do you really think the Alliance would care as much as it does now?" She wipes tears off of her cheeks. Humans cry when they are happy. Another quirk of the species.

"_You_ would care," Liara insists. "They _should_ care!" She scowls up at the Citadel Tower. They would never have dismissed Liara like that if her mother were still alive. Liara should be more like Benezia. "I can _make_ them care," she mutters, thinking of the information she has on the weaselly salarian Councilor Valern in particular.

"You think too highly of me," Shepard says. "It's because I speak Prothean, isn't it?" She has a wry smile. "Please don't blackmail the Council. We'll figure this out." The smile fades away until all that's left is determination. "We have to."

"You should visit Kaidan," Liara reminds Shepard. A confusion on the commander's face again. The first time Liara noticed it on Mars, she had been asking how Shepard always stayed focused.

_I think about everything I have to lose,_ Shepard had replied. The words had sounded certain, but the commander had glanced at her own shoulder when she said them, brushing away red dust the storm outside had deposited there. She had not seen Kaidan glance hopefully in her direction. Maybe she had known he would look, but had not wanted to see.

"I—Yeah," Shepard agrees. "Want to come?"

Liara certainly does not want to come. She does not like hospitals. But Shepard asks for so little; she can do this for her friend.

**…**

When Shepard opens the door to her cabin, Liara notices that the commander actually looks _more_ exhausted than she did before Liara shooed her off to bed. She scowls, thinking that the irrepressible woman has probably been writing reports or doing research.

The commander comes out into the small hallway instead of inviting Liara in. The light is dim, but still, she can see the dark smudges under Shepard's eyes. Shepard's hair is loose, out of its usual bun, and her clothes are wrinkled. Liara begins to worry that she woke the commander.

"Hey," the greeting is simple and straightforward, like Shepard herself. "What's up, Liara?" No smiles, no jokes. Worse, the commander's hands keep twitching. She should be sleeping.

"I've been forwarding the turian Councilor information on the Prothean device." This could have waited. "It can't be built without Council support, but he's not budging until their primarch is safe."

Shepard is blank. Something is definitely wrong.

"Are you all right?" Liara has to ask the question twice before Shepard even focuses her gaze. She steps away from Liara, insulted.

"I didn't get what you'd call a good night's rest." Her hands cannot stay still. Bad dreams, Liara realizes. Or bad waking dreams.

"There is more to it than that. What is really bothering you?" She has to know. She cannot help Shepard if she does not know what is wrong.

A smile from the commander. Light, noncommittal words. Liara frowns. Shepard should not try to avoid speaking honestly. Liara prepares for an argument. She insists that Shepard be honest.

To her surprise, Shepard offers no more resistance. "When the Reapers hit… I could hear people screaming in the streets below me." The soldier is embarrassed at what she views as failure, and she stares at fingers that twist more manically than ever. "I left them all behind."

Liara waits for Shepard to meet her eyes. Shepard's eyes are always so clear and sure. Liara needs to wipe the doubt out of them. "You could not have stayed. Right now you need to be here, getting support for Earth." She can't bear those wild, nervous gestures anymore, and puts a hand on the commander's arm. "You will get back there in time to help," she promises.

The doubt blows away, like fog retreating from a lake. Liara feels a surge of pride, and steps back so Shepard can stand on her own again.


	3. Mountains: Liara

**Mountains: Liara**

Glyph never stops talking. Liara leans heavily over her monitors, wishing it would stop. The VI's words all run together until it makes even less sense than usual. All Liara can focus on are the images of Palaven—

She is glad that Shepard sent her back to search for the source of the _Normandy's_ technical problems. At least she did not have to see everything that was happening on the turian homeworld in person. Is that better or worse than looking at the burning mountains on her monitors?

Shepard said Earth was like this. How is the commander so strong? How is Garrus?

The turian is not ready to talk to Liara about how he is feeling. She hopes he is all right. Maybe he will talk to Shepard. He will, probably. Those two have always been close. They share a history of enthusiastic military service, a penchant for trite jokes, and a distaste for 'red tape.'

It is good to have Garrus back on the _Normandy_, but Liara cannot help feeling a little stab of jealousy remembering Shepard's greeting of their old friend. The commander had bounced around the turian like a delighted puppy. The heavy toll of this war keeps both soldiers sedate for now, but in no time at all, those two will be back to stirring up trouble. Tali used to send long, exasperated emails detailing the pranks Shepard and Garrus played on the crew of the SR-2. With the end of the world upon them, an outlet, no matter how inconvenient, is important. But Liara is not a jester, and she refuses to tag along like an irritating little sister. She has been reunited with Shepard for less than two days. It will be easy to step back and let Garrus reclaim his place as the commander's closest friend.

Still, she will miss it.

She is tempted to kick herself for not joining the mission against the Collectors, but Liara refrains. It was more important that she become the Shadow Broker. She can help Shepard—help the galaxy—more this way.

Glyph is no longer talking. Silence settles over the cabin like a heavy blanket. So tired. Liara just wants to lie down and sleep until the war is over. But the galaxy needs the Shadow Broker. She needs… she should… she has to…

Goddess, the mountains are burning. They were supposed to go on forever.

She should look away from the monitors. This is doing her no good.

The door to her cabin hisses open, and Liara jumps. Her hand glows as she readies a singularity, before she remembers that she is on the _Normandy. _Only one other person on this vessel has access to her cabin. It is safe here.

"Jeez, Liara," Shepard laughs. "So paranoid! It's like you have a secret identity or something."

The smile on the commander's face fades when Liara looks up. "You're crying," she says. Her voice tilts a little, and the comment sounds like a question, as though she is unused to seeing her friend cry. They both know that she has offered awkward comfort by letting Liara sob into her shoulder more than once.

She is not crying. Is she? Liara touches her face, and stares at the dampness her fingers pull away from her cheeks.

"What's wrong?" Shepard is wearing a funny garment made of loose, soft cloth that zippers up the front. It is patterned like N7 regulation armor, but looks comfortable. A small robe for relaxing. The human pulls a too-long sleeve down, over her right hand, and wipes at Liara's tears. Her touch is a little too firm. "Don't cry." She smiles without parting her lips. "You look too good to be crying."

Liara laughs at that. When was the last time these clothes were laundered? She can't remember. More tears slip out of her eyes.

"What're you crying for?" Shepard's tone is pleading now. "What are you thinking about?"

"Just… old memories." Liara steps away from Shepard and darkens the monitors. "I spent a few weeks on Palaven's south peaks when I was very, very young. A turian there teased me a little," she smiles at the memory, and Shepard grins back at her. "He said the mountains went on forever. I remember believing him.

"When I looked up at Palaven from its moon, I saw those same mountains burning."

"Oh, Liara," Shepard sighs. "I'm sorry."

"_You _didn't attack Palaven." Liara hates the imprecise use of language. Shepard is not responsible for everything that happens in the galaxy, no matter what everyone pretends. "So what do you have to apologize for?"

The commander wrinkles her nose. "Well, _now _I'm sorry for trying to be nice to such a grumpy person."

Liara laughs again. "You are a good friend, Shepard."

"I am, aren't I?" The other woman puffs her chest out a little, and then looks around the room. "You know, I can't remember why I came by."

"I hope you were not looking for pleasant companionship," Liara says. "Otherwise, I will feel guilty for crying in front of you like a homesick twenty year old at boarding school." This elicits a smile from the commander. One of Shepard's favorite jokes is how ridiculous the asari species' long lifespan seems to her.

"Shepard," she says, more seriously now. "_I_ am sorry."

"_You_ didn't attack Palaven," the commander quips, crossing her arms and leaning back. She reminds Liara of university students who live to catch their professors in a mistake.

The asari manages not to roll her eyes. "No," she agrees, "I did not." Deep breath. "But my tears over Palaven must seem insensitive to you, seeing as how Earth—"

A dark expression passes over the commander's face. Liara falls quiet. Long after the silence has become uncomfortable, Shepard speaks. "Everyone keeps telling me that they're sorry about Earth. I know I should be sad about Earth, but I'm not. I want the Reapers gone, and I want everyone safe again, but I don't care about Earth. I keep trying to, but I can't. I want people to stop telling me how sorry they are about the planet. It just reminds me that _I'm_ not sorry.

"To tell the truth, Earth has never been home to me. I want to save humanity, but I don't…. Why can't I care about Earth?" The woman squirms guiltily. "Am I a bad person?"

It is Liara's turn to scowl. "Of course not!" She is too used to being indignant with anyone who suggests that Shepard is less than honorable to consider whether she should make an exception when the person making those suggestions actually _is_ Shepard.

Shepard looks relieved. Liara wonders how she could ever doubt herself.


	4. Tears: Shepard

**Tears: Shepard**

She actually feels too tired to sleep. A shower would probably help. Living on ships her whole life though, Shepard knows better than to waste water. She already indulged in a five-minute shower when they came back from Menae. She'll shower again tomorrow.

Maybe if she tries writing mission reports. Paperwork is boring. She wishes she had a proper XO to do these things for her. She misses Miranda. That woman had a passion for administration. One look at the commander's handwriting, and Shepard had been excused from submitting reports to the Illusive Man.

Shepard imagines asking Liara to take over traditional XO duties. Or worse, Garrus! She can't keep from laughing.

The nice thing about having the whole loft to herself is that she can be as loud as she wants, and no one will complain. Not that she is loud very often, with Thane gone. Did she really just think that? She must be _exhausted._

It isn't that she isn't fond of Thane. She is. But… she's _just_ fond of him.

Shepard wonders if the drell is dead yet. What a terrible person she is.

Thane felt—Thane feels?—Thane feels everything so acutely. His emotions are deep and intense. Shepard enjoyed talking to him, enjoyed his company, enjoyed staring at the muscles of his chest. Thane had been married. Thane understands love. Thane thinks he loves Shepard. Shepard let him think she felt the same, because she didn't want to be cruel. And because she was lonely, without Kaidan or anyone else.

The Shepard family is efficient, even with their emotions. Her parents never married, didn't see a reason to. They were fond of each other, didn't love each other. No passion, no mess, and after a while, even camaraderie faded to something more manageable. It was all very neat, the way things should be.

Had she even tried to love Thane back?

This is not a productive line of thought. There are so many other things she could be doing. Shepard should finish drafting this report for Admiral Hackett. She should read all the information Liara emailed her on the history of krogan-turian-salarian relations so that she doesn't say something that gets people killed at the war summit in a few days. Failing that, she should go to the shuttle bay and use the gym Vega has set up for himself down there.

Maybe Garrus would be up for a little sparring. She's willing to bet that he's not sleeping. Not with his family still on Palavan. His father and his sister, he'd said. She wonders what it would be like to have a sister, although she has Tali and Liara. Garrus' mother died a few months ago, didn't she?

Instead of thinking about her own mother, Shepard puts on a sweatshirt and takes the elevator down to the crew deck.

**...**

The forward battery is empty. Shepard is a little shocked; surely there are things that need to be calibrated, even in the middle of the night.

She considers waiting for Garrus to get back. Maybe he's only in the bathroom. She considers working out alone. Honestly though, she's too tired for more exercise. There will be a little time to breathe while the _Normandy_ waits for the krogan and salarian envoys to arrive.

What she needs is rest. What she wants is someone to talk to. Where's Mordin? He was always awake at odd hours. Miranda too, never stopped working. Jack didn't sleep, and Kasumi was good-natured about being woken up for no reason.

She wishes Kaidan was here. She wishes Ashley was here.

The ship is so quiet that Shepard has to smother the sudden urge to stand on the empty crew deck, spread her arms wide, and scream until everyone is awake, annoyed, and _there._ But some of the crew has lived through Collector attacks. Dr. Chakwas. Ken and Gaby. Screams on the ship would terrify them. Shepard doesn't want to be cruel. She should go back to her cabin. She should sleep.

She passes by the alcove that leads to Liara's cabin, and hears noise coming from inside. Of course the Shadow Broker never sleeps. Shepard will bother her friend for a while.

For an instant just after the door slides open, Shepard thinks that the asari fell asleep at her information console. Then Liara starts, and her biotics flare. The commander announces herself before she's turned into a tiny stain on the floor. And the ceiling. And the monitors. And Liara's nice, white coat.

The purple glow fades, and Liara grips her machines tightly for a moment. Shepard grins, planning to make a joke about how she realizes that the toys in here are all very expensive, and she promises not to even breathe on anything unless it's _really_ shiny.

Then Liara looks up.

She has been crying. She still is crying. The sight of Liara in tears always upsets Shepard. Maybe because Liara is so honest. She only cries when she is actually in pain.

"You're crying," Shepard says stupidly. Observation. It keeps her alive.

Liara frowns and brings a hand up to her cheek.

(Is she checking? Does she not believe Shepard? Why does no one ever believe Shepard? She likes jokes and tricks, sure, but she's always honest when it matters.)

"What's wrong?" Shepard asks, crossing the room. Liara likes to be hugged when she cries, and Shepard can do that for her. The other woman doesn't move to bury her face in Shepard's shoulder. The commander shifts from foot to foot. What is she supposed to do? She wants the tears gone. She pulls her sleeves down, catches Liara's chin in her left hand, and wipes away the tears with the heel of her right hand.

"Don't cry," she pleads. _Please don't cry_. She smiles tightly. "You look too good to be crying." It's the truth. The asari is not as pale as she was on Illium. She's not as angry as she was on Illium, as lonely as she was on the Shadow Broker's ship, or as frightened as she was on Therum. She looks better than Shepard remembers her ever looking. Funny, that she looks so good when the world is ending. Shepard probably looks like crap.

Liara gasps and sobs some more. Shepard presses her sweatshirt to her friend's face. "What're you crying for?" She can't fix it if she doesn't know what's wrong. "What are you thinking about?" _Please don't cry_.

The tears stop. Suddenly. Like repairing a leaking faucet. Liara pulls out of Shepard's grip. "Just… old memories," she says, trying to be reassuring. She turns off the wall of monitors. The room seems quieter without their glow. Softer.

"I spent a few weeks on Palaven's south peaks when I was very, very young," Liara explains. Stupid Shepard. Too wrapped up in herself and Garrus to think that other people might be hurting. "A turian there teased me a little," the corners of Liara's mouth turn up slightly, and Shepard smiles in relief. No more tears. "He said the mountains went on forever. I remember believing him.

"When I looked up at Palaven from its moon, I saw those same mountains burning."

Stupid Shepard. "Oh, Liara, I'm sorry." Observation. She doesn't have it when she needs it.

If something irritates Liara, she pulls her chin down, sucks her cheeks in slightly, and thrusts her lower lip forward. The face makes the asari look like a duck. At least Shepard thinks so. "_You_ didn't attack Palavan, so what do you have to apologize for?" Liara asks. All superior because she has more degrees than God.

"Well, _now_ I'm sorry for trying to be nice to such a grumpy person." Shepard is a little hurt. Why will complete strangers accept her sympathy, but not her friends?

Liara laughs. She thinks Shepard was joking. Oh, well. She laughed, that's all that matters. "You are a good friend Shepard."

Liara makes a joke about asari lifespans. A peace offering. That makes Shepard smile. She feels like joking now.

Suddenly though, Liara is serious, apologizing to Shepard. Is this another joke? She smirks. "_You_ didn't attack Palaven," she tells Liara archly. Shepard gets it.

She can tell Liara wants to roll her eyes. "No, I did not, but my tears over Palaven must seem insensitive to you, seeing as how Earth—"

Why won't people stop thinking Shepard must be sad about Earth? It's humanity's planet, yes, but Shepard feels no connection to the place. She wants to go back and rescue everyone. She's angry about the Reapers. She doesn't care about Earth, though.

Liara is waiting for a response. Shepard tells her. She tells her friend everything. "Earth has never been home to me. I want to save humanity, but I don't…. Why can't I care about Earth? Am I a bad person?" Liara is a good person. She will know if it's bad for Shepard to feel like this.

"Of course not!" Liara doesn't hesitate. She sounds almost angry. It makes Shepard feel better.

"Shepard," Liara says, "you do not care about Earth. Earth does not hold any special meaning for you. That is all right. In fact, it is one of the things I admire about you."

Shepard is confused.

"You do not form attachments to places. _Where_ you are is of little significance to you," Liara explains. "_People_ matter to you. You do not hate the Reapers because they set Palaven's mountains on fire. You hate them because they are hurting people."

Shepard isn't sure she believes Liara, but she wants to. The person Liara describes is the kind of person Shepard wants to be. "You're a good friend, Liara."

The asari sighs, and rolls up the sleeves of Shepard's sweatshirt, first the dry one, then the damp, like the commander is a child wearing hand-me-downs. "Perhaps."

**…**

Later, Commander Shepard falls asleep in a chair as the Shadow Broker details how Dalatrass Linron became leader of the Salarian Union.

* * *

_**Author's Note: **Calibration jokes. Never let it be said that I don't give the people what they want. _

_In any case, here's my bright-blue, sugar-sweet paragon femShep. She loves her mother, is blindly loyal to the Alliance, enjoys working out and spending time with friends, always does the right thing, and battles crippling self-doubt._


	5. Blues: Shepard

**Blues: Shepard**

Shepard is not a diplomat. The only thing she hates more than having to don her dress uniform is the conversations she has to have while she's wearing the uncomfortable thing. Sure, she looks good. The dress blues make everyone look good. But nothing good ever happens if you're wearing them. The Shepard family knows this. They are soldiers, not bullies, and _not_ diplomats. They're just… fighters.

(What did Ashley say, that one time? Straight-up punchers. Shepard is a straight-up puncher.)

Once when she was young, Shepard asked her mother why they lived on ships, instead of on a planet.

Commander Shepard—Big Shepard had been a lieutenant commander then—said it was because she liked wearing armor better than wearing her dress blues. Shepard hadn't understood. Even when she graduated from officer training and got her own blues, she didn't understand.

Not until she made the mistake of spending her shore leave on Elysium, mountain climbing with friends.

They'd been on the way out from their hotel: canteens full, boots laced, packs strapped on. That night, she planned on being dirty and exhausted, and pitching her tent on the side of a windy mountain trail. Instead, she never got out of the city. She expected to take holos of herself and her friends on top of Mount Homer. Instead the news vids played grainy security footage that showed her hunkered down behind a car on Elysium, laying down covering fire for hours so that civilians could get to safety.

Suddenly, Shepard had to wear her formal uniform all the time. The brass took her mother's cruiser off of active duty for a few days, and Captain Shepard personally pinned the Star of Terra on the hero of the Skyllian Blitz.

It was four months before she got a chance to head back to combat. Before the first week was over, Shepard finally understood what her mother had meant about formal uniforms. She'd made a vid call to her mother to make a joke about that old conversation, and how criminal prisoners on Earth wore blue too, didn't they?

Thanks to the whole stupid history of stupidity between the salarians, the turians, and the krogan, she has to wear her dress blues on her own ship. Because you can't offend the politicians. Even if one of them is a former shipmate. Who pulled a gun on you back on Virmire.

Well, at least she got to see Sur'Kesh. That was new. She blew up a big Cerberus mech. That was also new. She rescued a fertile female krogan. Rescuing someone isn't exactly new, but fertile female krogan are. Hell, any sort of female krogan are new. Last time she was on Tutchanka, she'd only dealt with angry males.

Eve seems reasonable. Shepard bets that _she _wouldn't care about dress blues. But no one asks Eve. The only people Shepard deals with are Wrex, Primarch Victus, and Dalatrass Linron. None of them are being reasonable, so she wears her blues.

**…**

Shepard hates salarians. She's decided. She hates everything about them. Their sneaky research. Their fancy lab equipment. Their arrogant meddling. Their exploding elevators. Their accusations of bullying.

Mordin is an exception. Maybe Major Kirrahe. The gun Kirrahe lends her is definitely an exception—she hopes he didn't expect her to give it back.

She hates turians, too. Their obsession with war. Their commitment to Palaven first. Their short-sightedness. Their—

She doesn't really hate the turians. She is a soldier; she understands their society. She respects it. Plus, they have Garrus, who she _loves_. (And not just because when he saw the yahg wandering the burning salarian research base he immediately shouted, "Look out! There goes the next Shadow Broker!" Oh, Liara had been beside herself. So had Shepard, but the commander had been laughing.) He reminds her of her favorite cousin, but _more_. He's her big brother.

What she hates about the turians is Primarch Victus, who plants secret bombs on Tuchanka, sends his incompetent son to disarm them, sends Shepard in to retrieve his incompetent son, and then Shepard ends up disarming the bomb, and having to watch the incompetent son die.

Shepard is tired of surviving. A person can only stand so much.

When Wrex and Victus start roaring at each other over the bomb, Shepard roars at both of them before storming back into the CIC. She tells Joker to take them to the Citadel. The cure for the genophage isn't ready yet, and she could use some shore leave.

In her room, she pulls off her dress blues. That feels better. She puts on a set of fatigues, and checks her mail. She has an email from Thane, and one from Kaidan.

**…**

What kind of monster is she?

Shepard means this question more than just physically. She knows that she is not quite human anymore, no matter what Cerberus says. She can feel the places in her body that are different. She can see the glow under her skin if she lies awake at night.

You can only be born a monster. It's no one's fault, it's just the way you are. Somehow, that knowledge doesn't make Shepard feel any better.

She slides into her seat at Liara's table outside the Apollo Café. The asari has come here every day of shore leave, and Shepard isn't sure why. Not for a change of scenery. Liara doesn't so much as glance up when Shepard arrives. She stays stock-still and pours over her datapad. She's always working; Liara should be in charge of the _Normandy_.

Shepard sighs piteously. No reaction. Clearly, Liara is hoping that ignoring the irritation will make it go away. No such luck. Really, after all these years, she should know better.

There are too many people here for shooting spitballs at Liara to be a realistic option. Someone would notice, and then Shepard would have to listen to Hackett complain about her lack of professionalism.

Eventually, the commander settles for repeating Liara's name in an insistent tone of voice until Liara rolls her eyes and shuts off her datapad.

"Did you speak with Barla Von?" she asks.

"Yes." Shepard did all the errands and chores she could think of as an excuse to delay visiting the hospital. Realistically, there was more she could have done. "You're not getting rid of me that easily."

(Why had she gone to the hospital? Because Thane asked her? Because Kaidan asked her? Because it was polite? Because some part of her wanted to see one of the men? Both of them? She was under constant watch when the Alliance had her penned up on Earth. Under constant watch for six months. There hadn't been any chance to…. Did she go to the hospital because she was _horny?_)

Liara narrows her eyes. "Something is bothering you," she comments. "Where have you been? You weren't on the _Normandy_ last night."

"You're the nosiest person in the _world, _T'Soni." Just because Shepard wants to talk to Liara, doesn't mean she wants Liara to know everything before the commander has a chance to tell her.

"Only because EDI is not technically a person."

Shepard laughs. "Don't let her hear you say that. Especially with that new chassis. She might decide to smash you to a…" Her throat is suddenly dry. "Well, it's not like she couldn't just vent your cabin while you're sleeping."

"I don't sleep." Shepard almost believes Liara. "You went to visit Kaidan," the asari comments quietly.

"This morning. I—Thane was there yesterday."

"I see. I take it things went well?"

Thane had kissed her. He asked about Kaidan. She told him the truth—she and Kaidan were together long ago. Before she'd even met Thane. She didn't tell him the truth—that she doesn't know how she feels about Kaidan, about anyone. She let Thane keep thinking that she loves him the way he wants her to.

All that is bad enough. But it had been Shepard who pulled the dying assassin down the streets of the Presidium to the Spectre barracks. She had used him. Poor Thane. Poor Kaidan. Maybe Thane had sensed something was wrong with her. He'd been insistent that what had happened was a goodbye more than anything else. That last kiss had tasted like goodbye, too.

And then visiting Kaidan the next day! She'd bought a bottle of something… she hadn't paid attention to what kind of alcohol it was once she saw the 'Product of Canada' label on it. All she remembers now is that it was expensive. Guilt is eating up her time and her pay.

"I… you could say that."

Liara shakes her head. "Oh, Shepard."


	6. Interruptions: Liara

**Interruptions: Liara**

The view from the Apollo Café is pleasing. There is an element of artificiality to it, just as there is with everything on the Citadel, but it is still beautiful. Liara likes seeing the 'sunlight' play on the water. Her decision to spend her shore leave at a table in the small restaurant has to do with the picturesque setting and the fact that it features an excellent selection of Thessian teas. It has nothing to do with the asari matriarch who works at the outdoor bar. That woman is a spy, and nothing more.

It is good to be in the fresh air. Odd, how the Citadel is so untouched by the realities of this war. She has heard Joker talking—the seeming callousness of the inhabitants angers him. The commander has patiently explained to the pilot over and over that most people are not trained to face war head-on. Fear gives them tunnel vision, Shepard claims. Not malice.

Shepard. The human has been scrambling across the Citadel without stopping since the _Normandy_ docked. She attends to all kinds of business: monitoring Spectre intelligence, resupplying the ship, meetings with mid-level diplomats, seeking supplies and troops for the war effort, performing favors for random strangers, interfering in the personal lives of her crew.

How many times has the commander interrupted Liara and tried to bully her into doing 'something fun?'

**…**

"I saw Kasumi!" And killed an indoctrinated hanar diplomat at some point during the reunion. "Well, he was going to destroy his own homeworld. And kill me. And kill another Spectre." Yes. By the way, does Jondum Bau know Ms. Goto is still alive? "We both know that you already know the answer to that question." I'd like to hear it from you. "She's my friend, Liara. I wasn't going to turn her in!" Despite the fact that she is wanted by the law? "_Especially_ because she's wanted by the law." You're a good friend, Shepard.

**…**

"Hey, Liara, you're looking too serious. Come with me." No Shepard, there are other things to do. "We might all die tomorrow, Liara." The chances of that will go down if you let me continue to work. "Yeah, well, your chances of biting the big one are gonna go _up_ if you don't put down that datapad and come with me."

Shepard, why, in Atheme's name, would I want to go to a _wig_ _shop?_ "Everyone wants to know what they would look like with a different haircut!" I've never had a haircut, Shepard. "Well, all the more reason for you to try on wigs! C'mon, don't you want to know what you'd look like as a redhead?" What is a 'redhead?' That wig is orange. Shepard, don't—

(The wig shop _had_ been fun, but Liara wasn't going to do any more to inflate Shepard's ego).

**…**

"Liara… pay attention to me!" If you want attention Shepard, I could alert the press as to your whereabouts. "You wouldn't." Ms. Al-Jilani is still stationed on the Citadel, I believe. All my sources indicate that she is somewhat irritated with you for granting Diana Allers and the Alliance News Network access to the _Normandy._ "You've gotten mean since you became the Shadow Broker." Shepard, please let me work.

(Soft eyes from the commander). "Liara, you work too much. You're on shore leave. Don't you remember what that means?" It means we should take advantage of this time to stock up on necessities while we can. "Such as?" Eezo, heavy arms, mercenary groups. "Oh! Did I mention I spoke to Aria T'Lok—" I know. "You're _no fun!_" You should talk to Barla Von, the volus, by the way. He can point you to some mercenaries willing to join us.

(Shepard grabs Liara's hand as she stands to leave). "We'll get the people, Liara. Take some time for yourself now and then." I know. I will. There's just always one more thing that needs doing. "We'll manage if something falls through the cracks. We _won't _manage if you crack. Take some time for yourself." Clever wordplay, Shepard. "I thought so."

**…**

This time when Shepard sits down, she does so without saying anything. Liara focuses on not looking up. A quiet commander is a commander who is struggling with deciding how to bring up problems without burdening her friend. Liara will give her time.

"Liara."

A teasing tone of voice. Honestly. There is a time for jokes and a time for seriousness. If the sigh Shepard gave earlier was any indication, something is weighing on her. Why does she always insist on playing the jester?

"Liiiiara." Drawing out the vowel sound like a whine. "Li-ara." Separating the syllables in a child's sing-song. "Liara-Liara-Liara-Liara-Liara-Liara-Liara-Liara-Liara-Liara-Liara-Liara-Liara-Liara-Liara!" Shepard says Liara's name so quickly and often that it becomes unrecognizable.

The asari turns off her datapad. Clearly, Shepard does not plan on calmly and maturely discussing what is bothering her. Liara will have to go digging for the information. Still, there is a war going on. There is business to attend to. Just one question.

"Did you speak with Barla Von?"

"Yes. You're not getting rid of me that easily." Anyone who did not know the commander well would listen to the cheery tone of Shepard's voice and believe that she was at ease. Liara sees the way Shepard's brows dip worriedly for a fraction of an instant before she turns the expression into an insolent face.

"Something is bothering you."

The human sits in petulant silence.

Liara tries again. "Where have you been? You weren't on the _Normandy_ last night."

Shepard's shoulders relax slightly. Liara has provided an opening. "You're the nosiest person in the _world,_ T'Soni," she gripes.

_Only when you need me to be,_ Liara thinks. "Only because EDI is not technically a person," Liara says.

Shepard laughs. "Don't let her hear you say that. Especially with that new chassis. She might decide to smash you to a…" She trails off, swallows several times, and tries to change the subject.

Ah. You do not need to be the galaxy's most powerful information broker to discern what is troubling Shepard. "You went to visit Kaidan."

"This morning," Shepard nods. "I—Thane was there yesterday."

"I see." In six words, the commander has explained where she was last night and why she looks so miserable right now. "I take it things went well?"

"I… you could say that." It is fascinating to watch a human blush. They all turn such different colors. At the moment, Shepard is a particularly becoming shade of pink.

"Oh, Shepard."

Shepard buries her head in her hands. "Kaidan…. They knew about each other. They'd talked with each other, Liara. And I—they both—" She groans. Liara considers giving her a reassuring, if condescending, pat on the head, but refrains. Shepard knows that she is wrong this time. She is aware that she is playing with fire.

"I told Thane that… that _things _with Kaidan were over a long time ago. I really thought they were!" She glances up to gauge whether Liara believes her before hiding her face again. "But then this morning, when I saw Kaidan—I told him that I never meant to hurt him!" Shepard sounds angry. "_He_ made _me_ feel terrible on Horizon, and _I _thought we were— I _apologized_ to him!"

"I take it you had not done anything to apologize for, but he had?"

"No," Shepard mutters resentfully. "Plus, he apologized too."

"Well, then."

"You don't get it!" Shepard sits up abruptly and scowls at Liara. "He held my hand! He told me—He said that for him there isn't anyone else!"

Liara rolls her eyes. Shepard is so dramatic sometimes.

"They both—They think I love them."

"Don't you?"

"I don't know!" Shepard protests, but her head shakes 'no.' "Maybe? How can you tell? Have you ever been in love?"

Liara focuses on her breathing before she can betray her surprise. What an awkward question for Shepard to ask!

"I thought I was," she replies finally, "once."

"What happened?"

"It was not the right time for us."

Shepard winces sympathetically. "For what it's worth, I think Feron was an idiot to leave you."

"I—Feron?"

There's that infuriating smirk. "You don't fool me, Liara. I remember what you said the first time I asked about him." Shepard slows her words, pitches her voice lower, and just a shade breathier. "'He's been though an ordeal…It would be irresponsible for me to take advantage of him.'" Liara doesn't sound like that. Does she?

The commander sighs. "I don't want to hurt them," she says lamely. "Feron—" Liara opens her mouth to object, but Shepard waves her away, "—or whoever. Did you get over them? Are you all right?"

Before Liara can reply, Shepard rushes ahead with a joke, afraid of what the answer to her question might be. "You know, if Feron doesn't come around by the end of the war, I can always kick his ass for you. What are friends for?"

Oh, Shepard.


	7. Gifts: Liara

**Gifts: Liara**

"Jack has _hair!_" Shepard keeps repeating this as though it is some sort of revelation. By the time they are halfway to the Presidium Commons, Liara is tired of hearing about Jack's hair. As soon as she fails to respond to the observation however, the commander regards her suspiciously. "Are you jealous, T'Soni?" she asks.

"Jealous? Of what? Your preoccupation with Jack's appearance?" Liara thinks that if anyone should be jealous it is Kaidan or Thane. Kaidan and Thane? She knows that Shepard received another email from Kaidan, but her friend has not mentioned plans to visit the hospital again. Shepard is trying so hard not to hurt the two men. It would be insensitive to tease her.

"Of her hair!" Oh, Goddess.

"No."

"I don't believe you."

"Alas, I do not care enough to attempt to convince you of my sincerity." They have arrived at Apollo's Café. The _Normandy_ will not be staying at the Citadel long. Mordin has completed his work on the genophage cure. All that remains is to figure out how best to distribute it among the population of Tutchanka. The frigate will depart tomorrow. Still, they have a little time.

Liara sits at her favorite table in the restaurant's courtyard. Shepard remains standing.

"Let's have a drink," the human says. "My treat." Before Liara can remind Shepard that it would be a very bad idea to be hung over tomorrow, the commander smiles her wry smile and adds, "I know. Just one drink, I promise. Then I'll leave and you can work."

No one has ever accused Liara of being a bacchant, but this is the first time in a while that she has felt particularly tedious. Shepard looks so forelorn, one would have to be a monster to refuse the invitation. She nods, and Shepard leaves before she can make a drink request. Knowing the commander, Liara will be subjected to—she shudders—_beer_.

Ah, well. She has spent so little time with Shepard of late. After the successful rescue mission at Grissom Academy, the commander and Garrus have spent the majority of their waking hours helping Jack train her students in more traditional forms of combat. Using biotics tends to drain humans, so it makes sense to give the teenagers some weapons training. Shepard also insisted on teaching the basic elements of marine hand-to-hand, enlisting Lieutenant Vega as her assistant and poor Garrus as a good-natured practice dummy for her enthusiastic demonstrations. When Shepard was not acting as an instructor, she was hovering over David Archer, wanting to know whether his teachers were gentle with him, whether he felt safe in school, whether the other students were kind to him, whether he was happy.

Liara realized long ago that once Shepard rescues someone, she never stops looking out for them.

The commander is taking rather a long time to return. Liara glances idly around. She had not thought that the café was particularly busy when they arrived—

What is Shepard doing talking to _her?_

**…**

Shepard comes back without any drinks. Unsure as to whether she should be relieved that she has been spared an abysmal-tasting human beverage, Liara feigns interest in her datapad. The human sits down quietly. A bad sign. Liara takes a deep breath, and asks if Shepard needs to borrow some credits, since she did not seem to purchase anything.

"Yeah," the commander sighs. "Um, about that. Did you see the bartender I was talking to over there?"

"The one you were yelling at? The matriarch hired by the asari government to track my movements?"

Even though Shepard was there when Liara became the Shadow Broker, she always looks surprised when Liara mentions this sort of thing. "You know about that? Of course you know about that."

Why do so many humans touch their head or face when they are agitated? Shepard is no exception. She attempts to run her fingers through her hair, and inadvertently pulls her bun apart. The pained face she makes as wisps of hair fall into her eyes almost makes Liara laugh.

"I—" Shepard appears to be searching for the right words. Liara can imagine what she has to say. "Liara, she's your father."

"I know." The commander means well, but she cannot possibly understand. Matriarch Aethyta may have fathered Liara, but she is not really her father.

"You know?"

"I'm a very good information broker."

"And you haven't talked to her?"

"If I did that, they might send someone who was not as sympathetic to me." The situation is really quite simple.

In her frustration, Shepard nearly knocks over her chair when she stands. It is very funny. "Liara!"

"This is hardly the time for family reunions," Liara points out.

"This is _exactly_ the time for family reunions!" the commander snaps. She pushes her hands through her hair again. "God, if I—Go talk to her, T'Soni."

"No."

The commander slams a fist on the table. The noise startles Liara. For all her pranks and levity, Shepard is usually very gentle. "That's an order." Liara narrows her eyes defiantly, but Shepard refuses to back down. The asari looks away first.

"Tell you what," Shepard says kindly, as Liara crosses her arms and stares at the Presidium lakes, "next time we come back here, if you see my dad waiting tables, you can make me talk to him."

Despite herself, Liara glances over her shoulder and studies her friend. Shepard speaks of her mother from time to time, but she has never mentioned a father. At times, Liara has wondered whether Shepard sprang from her mother's head fully-formed, like the ancient human war goddess she studied in comparative xenomythology.

"I find it hard to believe that you do not get along with your father, Shepard."

The commander snorts. "Believe it." More quietly she adds, "He's a doctor. Wasn't really pleased when I decided to be a soldier instead of… well, more like him. But we're not talking about me." She puts a hand on Liara's shoulder. "It's better to make sure that you hate her than to risk never finding out."

"Oh, fine." Liara hesitates. "Will you… come with me? Just at first? You do not have to stay."

Shepard smiles. "I'll stay until things get too awkward for even me to handle. Unless there are baby holos. Nothing in the galaxy is going to drag me away from your embarrassing baby holos."

**…**

"You did threaten to flay someone alive with your mind," Aethyta points out. To Liara's fury, Shepard nods in agreement. She stops when Liara glares at her.

"I had to make him take me seriously!" Liara protests. "I was not going to actually do it," she adds sullenly. "And… you bugged my office on Illium!"

"That'd be the logical conclusion, yeah." To her credit, Shepard has the decency to look indignant on Liara's behalf, but she keeps quiet.

The conversation turns to more acceptable topics. The war. Why the asari refuse to commit troops to the war. Aethyta glances sidelong at Shepard, and comments that it is good the krogan and turians are capable of doing 'the heavy lifting.' The commander pretends to be engrossed in studying the café's drink menu.

When Aethyta tries to convince Liara that having a krogan grandparent makes her a quarter krogan, Shepard looks up, clearly amused. However, she catches Liara's eye when the young asari vehemently insists that 'That's not how it works!' and goes back to hiding in her menu.

Finally, Aethyta seems to be tiring of teasing Liara about her heritage. "I'll bet you that Shepard knows what I'm talking about," she says, sounding almost wistful. "You've head-butted a few krogan in your time, haven't you, Commander?"

Liara turns to give Shepard a warning look, but the human has vanished.

**…**

Aethyta tells stories about her time with Benezia. The expression on her face—Liara recognizes it. Her parents had loved each other very much. Despite everything that vids, novels, and poets claim, true love is the rarest thing in the galaxy. Liara wants to know everything.

"Nezzy—uh, your mother, was the only one who listened to me when I said the asari were stuck in the past." Liara nods, aware of her father's problematic political opinions. "She actually agreed with me, if you can believe it. The only difference was, I wanted us to stand on our own. She wanted to form alliances with other species."

"Is that why…"

"Why it ended?" Aethyta starts to shake her head. "Nah." She stops, cocks her head to the side, thinking. "Well, maybe. Shit, I don't know.

"Mostly it ended because she wanted to solve things the smart way. I wanted to fight." A shrug. "Guess those aren't mutually exclusive, though. I mean, look at you, kid. I hear you've racked up quite a body count. But then—"

"Do not say it…."

"—you _are_ a quarter krogan."

"Now you are doing it on purpose!"

"I am not. Maybe. Before you were born, you used to give your mother hell. She said you were kicking. I knew better. Head-butting even before you had someone to fight. That's part of the reason I made her promise to let you go your own way. No matter what she wanted."

As annoyed as she is right now, Liara is also touched. "Really?"

"I knew you'd be special, kid." The words sound almost gentle. "Any daughter of hers…" Aethyta clears her throat, uncomfortable. "Yeah. I told her, 'You're treating her like a baby bird, Nezzy, but trust me, she's gonna raise one _hell_ of a storm with those little wings."

If no one has punched Liara, why is she having trouble breathing? "Little wing?" she gasps.

"You okay?"

It takes a few moments, but Liara manages to nod. "I do not understand," she admits after a while. "It sounds as though you loved her, so why—"

"Of course I loved her! She was so smart," the matriarch says. "Always thinking. Nice, too. Hell of a lot nicer than I am. And damn, that rack! I mean, even before she hit the matriarch stage…." Aethyta whistles, the way Shepard does sometimes when she is trying to make Lieutenant Vega blush.

Maybe Liara does not need to know _everything_.

"I don't know why it ended. All I know is that it was pretty clear that she was leaving. Can't be the wise counselor when you're married."

That is ridiculous. Liara says as much.

"Sex appeal," Aethyta promptly responds. Liara wishes that she had not asked. "Most species only pay attention if they want to have sex with you. So you have to be available, mysterious…"

"What?" That is also ridiculous. "That is not true!" Liara protests. "Shepard listens to me!"

"And you're single, aren't you?"

"You think Shepard wants… no. No!" No. Goddess, no. Shepard respects Liara.

"If you say so." Aethyta smiles awkwardly. "This has been nice, kid. Talking about your mother. It's better to remember her like than as whatever she turned into with that Saren bastard."

"That was not her fault," Liara snaps. She should not have to defend her mother to her father. Aethyta should believe in Benezia no matter what. "She was trying to stop Saren, to guide him as a force of good. But she was indoctrinated."

A hopeful expression spreads across the matriarch's face. "I heard stories about the Reapers messing with your head."

"They're more than stories," Liara assures her. "I've seen it. Every Cerberus soldier is a slave to the Reapers. Mother—" It is suddenly hard to form the words. "Mother fought it with every fiber of her being. She said it was like beating your hands on glass, watching what your body was doing. Still, she managed to break free and even helped Shepard before she died."

If Aethyta was the sort of person who cried, Liara would assume that her father is on the edge of tears. "All this time, I blamed Nezzy for it," she says quietly. "I'm a thousand years old and I still don't know crap. Thanks for telling me."

She straightens her shoulders. "Hey, kid. I've, uh, I've called a few friends." Is the matriarch going to invite Liara to a party? "Commandos. Mostly Eclipse girls who owe me some favors. They're all yours. Just tell 'em where to go."

Better than a party. "You're giving me asari commandos?"

"Well, you're too old for me to buy you a damn pony," her father growls. "Just take care of yourself out there, okay, kid?"

"I will… Dad."


	8. Matchmaker: Shepard

**Matchmaker: Shepard**

Shepard makes sure Liara is seated at that table she likes before leaving to get drinks. They deserve a celebration. Saving a bunch of kids—that's the kind of mission that feels good. There should be more missions like that. She makes a mental note to tell Traynor how much she appreciates the young woman's efforts when she gets back to the _Normandy_.

She leans on the bar and waits, idly flipping through a drink menu. Liara doesn't like beer yet, which is the reason Shepard always orders it for her. If she drinks it often enough, eventually she'll develop a taste for it. The commander will go easy on her friend today though. Liara has been working even harder than usual; the asari has earned one of those disgusting, fruity drinks she likes so much.

The asari matriarch who finally comes over to take Shepard's order looks vaguely familiar. Where does the commander know her from?

"Hey." The gravelly tone of voice is not one you easily forget, unlike the bartender's name, apparently. "I remember you. Shepard, right? Heard you were fighting the Reapers."

"Someone has to." The name clicks into place. "Matriarch Aethyta, from Illium!" Talk about awesome stories. Big Shepard would have loved this one. No. Not thinking about Big Shepard. Thinking about Liara. About having fun. About rescuing teenagers. "How'd you end up here?" News reports say Illium is safe for now. Most of the inhabitants of the planet are going about their business as though the end of the world isn't a very real possibility.

It seems that Aethyta has remembered Shepard's drink order from all those months ago. She slides a short glass. The commander takes a sip and almost chokes. Is this Ryncol? What the hell? Then she remembers her obsessive hunt for a cocktail that would render her unconscious after her fight with Kaidan on Horizon. She wants to spit it out, but the matriarch is watching her expectantly, so she drains the glass. Somehow, she manages to stay on her feet. God bless Miranda and whatever unholy upgrades she put into Shepard.

"So, what're you doing on the Citadel?" Shepard asks again.

"Eh, with the Reapers making noise, I figured it was time to get somewhere safe, so I moved here."

(Liara had given Shepard free access to the information on the Shadow Broker's old ship. Maybe she hadn't been expecting the human to spend hours and hours digging through other people's secrets, but Shepard and Garrus had had so much fun spying on old… acquaintances. How many times had they watched that reporter from Westerlund news sucker-punched by the subjects of her interviews? "You should do that next time, she comes after you, Shepard," Garrus had laughed as they watched the poor woman be attacked by yet another volus. But they'd found more than just jokes. They'd found something big. And they'd sworn not to say anything to the new Shadow Broker.)

Garrus is going to be mad at her, but Shepard means well. "I don't think so," she says, pointing at the matriarch. "I've seen some video footage… of you, looking at Liara."

"Yeah." The asari begins wiping down the counter, an excuse to look away if Shepard ever saw one. "Matriarch Benezia was, uh, was her mother… and, um." _Everyone in the galaxy knows __**that**_, the commander thinks. "Well, she doesn't know it, but… I was her father."

In an admirable example of self-control, Shepard manages to keep from shouting 'I knew it!' Instead, she remembers old conversations with Liara about her fear that her father was ashamed of having a pureblooded daughter. "You should talk to her," she says. "I know it would mean a lot to Liara."

"You think I work in places like this because I wanna reunite with my kid?" the matriarch makes a face. "She doesn't know me from a hole in the ground. Benezia ran off before she was born. Besides, Liara's a big girl. She's one of the biggest intel brokers in the galaxy. And she's got some shady connections… like a girlfriend who used to work for Cerberus. Sound familiar?"

At the mention of Cerberus, Shepard sees red. She's tired of people forgetting that being an Alliance soldier is in her damn blood. Or maybe it's just the Ryncol. She slaps a hand on the table and points a threatening finger at Aethyta. "I _only_ worked for Cerberus to fight the Reapers!"

"And you're not with 'em anymore," the matriarch agrees. "I know. If you were, you wouldn't get within a light-year of Liara." The tone of her voice is overtly hostile.

Shepard clenches her jaw. "Is that a threat?"

"I'm no commando, but I've had a thousand years to learn to fight dirty. No one messes with my girl."

Despite her anger, Shepard smiles. Liara needs looking after. It's good that someone else seems up to the task. "Good," she nods. "So you're here keeping an eye out for her?"

"Not quite," Aethyta admits. "You combine her work with Benezia, and, well, the matriarchs might have ordered a hit if I hadn't volunteered to keep an eye on her."

Usually Shepard only feels this angry in the middle of a fight. She resists the urge to grab the matriarch by the front of the shirt and shake her. Instead, she settles for hitting the bar again.

"That's not going to happen!" She leans forward threateningly, making the most frightening face she knows how to make. Dead eyes are useful for putting bullies in their place. Big Shepard taught her that.

The bartender takes a step back. "No argument here," she says. "I only took these crap jobs to keep the matriarchs happy that she's under control."

"Just so long as we're clear," Shepard says. She glances at Liara, who's absorbed in her datapad. As usual. Oblivious to the drama playing out over here. Yes, Liara definitely needs looking after. "Nobody messes with _my_ girl." It's silly to call someone more than three times your age a girl, but it would be less dramatic if Shepard said 'with my crew.'

"Ha!" Aethyta's laugh is harsh, but honest. Shepard likes it. "Maybe you're good enough for her after all."

The commander's mind starts to catch up with her adrenaline, and she blushes. "No, I don't mean—It's not like that. We never—We're not—We're just friends."

Aethyta looks skeptical. "If you say so." Even the fun asari are know-it-alls.

"Want me to go get her? I know she'd like the chance to meet you." Before the matriarch can respond, Shepard is halfway to Liara.

**…**

Liara doesn't look up when Shepard sits down. "Do you need me to lend you some credits, Shepard?" she asks. "Unlike Alliance command, my finances are not yet stretched to their breaking point. Or did you change your mind about the drinks?"

"Yeah," Shepard fidgets. "Um, about that. Did you see the bartender I was talking to over there?" She's not a diplomat. Might as well just face this thing head-on.

"The one you were yelling at?" Liara asks dryly. "The matriarch hired by the asari government to track my movements?" She looks up to gauge Shepard's reaction.

"You know about that?" So much for Liara being oblivious. (Wait. Did she say 'hired?' Damn it, Aethyta didn't mention she was being paid to spy on her own daughter. Shepard feels as though she's been tricked. Wait. Liara _knew?_ Why would she keep this to herself? Why didn't she say anything to Shepard? Is she all right? Have the matriarchs tried anything else Shepard doesn't know about?) "Of course you know about that."

Shepard runs a hand through her hair, even though it's tied neatly back. For some reason, Liara always seems to find an unkempt Shepard hilarious. Maybe it will soften the coming blow. "I—Liara, she's your father."

"I know."

There's no way the commander could have heard that correctly. "You know?"

"I'm a very good information broker."

Very funny, Liara. What the hell is wrong with you? "If you know, why haven't you talked to her?"

"If I did that, the matriarchs might send someone who was not as sympathetic to me."

Shepard is unhappy with how this conversation is progressing. She stands. "Liara!" she scolds.

"Shepard!" Liara mocks. "This is hardly the time for family reunions."

(It's like facing the Liara she remembers from their first reunion on Illium. Cold. Emotionless. Frightening. Shepard doesn't like it. She knows her friend is in there, and that her friend is in pain, no matter what she says.)

"This is _exactly_ the time for family reunions." Faced with Liara's ice, Shepard is all fire. Her fingers comb through her hair again. In genuine frustration this time. How can Liara waste this gift? "God, if I—"

She has no idea where Big Shepard is, if her mother is even alive. Where any of the Shepards are. Her uncles and aunt. All six cousins: Katie, Jack, and Jane are married. Jane _just_ got married, eight months ago. Katie has three children. Mike's daughter is two, and she lives with Uncle Andrew—her mother walked out last year. If Shepard stumbled across a long-lost family member, she wouldn't be sitting in a café pretending that she was too tough to need to cry all over them.

"Go talk to her, T'Soni."

"No."

Stubborn asari! Shepard punches this table, too. "That's an order," she says. They stare at each other for a moment. Shepard is surprised at how angry Liara seems. She won't back down though. This is family. Liara needs family.

After a few moments, Liara's eyes start to shine a little too brightly. She turns away and crosses her arms. A clear refusal.

"Tell you what," Shepard takes deep breaths to regain her self-control. This must be so hard for Liara. What is she feeling? Too much, probably. Not everyone is as emotionally stunted as Shepard. "The next time we come here, if you see _my_ dad waiting tables, you can make me talk to him."

Small chance of that. Her father was stationed at the Mars Naval Medical Center when the Reapers first hit, but Liara doesn't need to know that.

"I find it hard to believe that you do not get along with your father, Shepard."

That's funny. Liara has always had too high an opinion of the commander's affability. "Believe it, T'Soni," she says. "He's a doctor. Wasn't really pleased when I decided to be a soldier instead of… well, more like him. But we're not talking about me."

Her father's last name is Upton. Not Shepard. When it became clear that Shepard was going to be a Shepard, he'd eased himself out of her life. No one really missed him, Shepard tells herself.

"We're not talking about me," she reminds Liara. She touches her friend's shoulder, and Liara looks up at her. "It's better to make sure that you hate her than to risk never finding out."

"Oh, fine," Liara sighs. "But you will come with me?" It's a threat, but it sounds like a question. "Just at first. You do not have to stay."

"I'll stay until things get awkward," Shepard grins. "Unless there are baby holos. Nothing in the galaxy is going to drag me away from your embarrassing baby holos." Oh, embarrassing holos of the unflappable Liara would make this entire Reaper invasion worth it.

**…**

Shepard wanders the Meridian Place Market, chuckling to herself. "If you get the urge to head-butt something, it's genetic," she grins. Aethyta is going to be good for Liara, she can tell. Anyone who can irritate the Shadow Broker that much can't be all bad.

She strolls over to the Kassa Fabrications shop, planning to look at some of the new armor pieces they have on sale.

"Hello, Shepard!"

"Ah!" Despite years of combat training, surprise nearly gives the commander a heart attack. "Hey, EDI," she pants, hand pressed to her heart. The AI is standing calmly amid the bustle of the market, observing everything with an air of cool detachment. "You look like you're gathering data."

"That is a safe assumption." Even for a synthetic, EDI's posture is amazing. Shepard's old drill instructor would have used her as an example of parade rest position. If he managed not to shoot her on sight.

"Anything big and world-shaking?" Shepard asks. "Man's inhumanity to man? Does objective reality really exist? That kind of thing?"

"I was running scenarios in my head to analyze Jeff's behavior." EDI glances towards the benches. Joker sits next to a group of trees. When he sees Shepard and EDI looking at him, he waves enthusiastically.

Shepard waves back. "Oh. Well, that's almost as big a mystery."

EDI nods. "I believe he has a strong affectionate attachment to me, but he has not stated it to anyone yet." Talking about his intense love for the _Normandy_ doesn't count, apparently. Where is this conversation going?

"Shepard, you have first hand sexual experience." The commander feels her jaw drop in embarrassment, but she can't seem to close her mouth. "How do you know when someone is romantically invested?"

"I—uh, EDI, are you _sure_ you want to talk to _me_ about this? Couldn't…" she scrambles to think of _anyone_ else EDI might feel comfortable confiding in. Traynor. Traynor's young, attractive, and relatively normal. "Maybe Specialist Traynor…"

EDI looks disappointed. Shepard didn't know synthetics could look disappointed. She blames the fancy tech in the AI's face. What's it made of, anyway?

"Uh, or I could give it a shot, I guess." EDI nods. Shepard rubs the back of her neck and frowns when she realizes her hair is still a mess. She gathers it up, pulling it into a bun based on feel alone, thinking all the while. "How do you know when someone is romantically invested?" she asks herself.

"Maybe…. Well, they'll usually show signs they can't stop thinking about you? Yeah," Shepard nods. "You know, asking you out, giving you presents, maybe playing music…." So what if she's describing a the progress of a high school relationship? High school was a good time for Shepard!

EDI considers this information. "I lack material wants, other than hardware and software upgrades," she points out. "And my core programming does not assign values to music." After a few awkward seconds tick by, she says, "Maybe we could discuss how to provoke Jeff into an emotional commitment."

Forget her own love life. Shepard can't even give dating advice to an AI without missing the point entirely.

"That's not how to think about it," the commander says quickly. "It's gotta be natural. You need chemistry."

"There are a number of pharmaceuticals I could inject to simulate the desired emotional state."

"No!" If that's not a joke, Shepard is going to have to lock Joker up for his own safety. "I meant… relax and do something you both like. Something simple. For example, you both like humor."

"Correct." EDI seems taken with the idea. "I will see if there are comedic entertainment shows being presented on the Citadel." Impossibly, her posture straightens even further. "Scanning. Do you think he would like 'The Man Who Hung Himself?' It appears to be about an amorous plastic surgeon."

(Doctors and fathers are everywhere today, aren't they?)

"EDI," Shepard says, putting an arm around the robot's shoulders, "I don't know a lot about love, but I can tell you one thing. The important thing is to have a good time wherever you go. And if you're having fun, he probably will too."

The AI stares at Shepard's arm, thinking. "Then… the outcome is an unknown quantity, but you are saying I should attempt it anyway?"

"Nobody ever fell in love without being a little bit brave," Shepard grins. Whoever said reading those 'Dear Dinah' columns wouldn't pay off?

"I see," EDI says. They both look back at Joker. "I believe you have improved my chances, Shepard. Thank you."

Commander Shepard. Alliance Special Forces, Council Spectre, and relationship guru.


	9. Whispers: Shepard

**Whispers: Shepard**

No. Not another nightmare. She helped cure the genophage today! She helped kill a Reaper today! No! Not another nightmare!

At first glance, her second nightmare is just like the first. No color, no light. Just shadows, trees, and whispers.

Eventually though, she begins to see little differences. Is dreaming always like this? More or less the same, except for details that wouldn't matter to another person?

This time, bits of fiery debris fall from the sky. It melts away when it touches Shepard, the way the genophage cure did. Mocking her. Whatever she's accomplished doesn't matter here.

The boy. Again. Just the same as last time. Let it go! Shepard knows she didn't save him, damn it! He burns alive. He keeps his sad, frightening eyes locked on Shepard the entire time.

Let him burn. Shepard knows that she is failing, that she is the worst soldier in the Alliance, but she doesn't try to save the boy. She can't. She is too busy covering her ears.

_Shepard…_

The whispers are words this time. Horrible, horrible words.

Mike's words: _Dad's taking Alice off-world, but some of us are still Alliance, kiddo. Second Fleet can't fly without me!_

Ashley's words: _Now go back, and get the lieutenant, and get the hell out of here! You know it's the right choice, LT!_

Mordin's words: _Excellent timing! Good to have you here_.

Knowing that she should recognize the shadows makes her second nightmare so much worse than her first.

_Shepard…_

She wakes up with an aching jaw. Her teeth were clenched tightly together. The Alliance trains you not to scream. Enemies might hear your weakness.

(She doesn't make it to the bathroom in time. She vomits into her trash basket. There are cleaning supplies in the closet. Industrial strength. When she's done, the whole room smells like ammonia. If any germs survive, it isn't on her.)

She can't stay here. She can't try to sleep again. She can sleep when she's dead. If they let her stay dead next time.

**…**

Cortez and Vega are elsewhere for once. The shuttle bay is empty and quiet at this time of night. Lonely. Somewhere on the ship, other people are surely awake. Shepard doesn't care. She needs to punish her body so that she can start to remember that she's alive. It will be easier if no one watches her. She's fine, but she doesn't want to have to tell everyone that.

_Test subject has been recovered, but the damage is far worse than we initially feared._

Sprints down the length of the bay. In the beginning, the robotic dog keeps pace with her. Just two machines, alone together. Running. Trying to feel something—blood?—pound through their circuits. Eventually, the mech gives up. It flops down in the middle of the bay. A challenge. Sometimes Shepard jumps over it. Sometimes she swerves to the left of it. Sometimes to the right.

_Meat and tubes_.

Thanks to Cerberus, Shepard doesn't tire as easily as she used to. It feels like hours before her legs begin to burn. She wonders how much time has really passed. If the tone for the changing of the watch has sounded, she missed it.

_Emotions at Shepard's alleged survival are mixed. While some are overjoyed at her return, others believe her false death was a betrayal._

(That tone… it used to be one of her favorite sounds. When she was little, it meant time with Mom. When she got older, it meant time without Mom. When she joined the Alliance, it meant time with guns. When she worked with Cerberus, it meant nothing. She's still waiting for it to mean something again. Maybe when the war is over, she can take some time. When the war is over. That's a laugh.)

_I saw you get spaced._

She's starting to sweat. Not a light sheen of water on her face. Real sweat, that drips through her hair and drops onto the floor. If she looks down at her hands, will she be able to see the wires where her nervous system used to be? She knows that she glows in the dark. What about when she pushes herself too far? Will they use the fire extinguishers to put her out, the way they did when EDI's new chassis set the AI core on fire?

_ They rebuilt you from the ground up…Shepard, I don't know what you are since Cerberus rebuilt you. _

Too hot. Here's a dilemma. She can't stop moving, but she's too hot. Can she take off her sweatshirt without stopping? Without falling?

_ Your brain functions are organic._

Pull down the zipper. Yank out the right arm. Lift the left arm high to keep from tripping. Jump over the dog. Reach behind and grab the sweatshirt. Pull the left arm out. Toss the sweatshirt. Touch the ground and turn.

_I have to find out my child is alive third-hand through the Alliance brass? Where the hell have you been?_

It's nice to have something go right.

**…**

She slides on her own discarded sweatshirt. Her arms wave wildly, trying to keep her upright. Of course, she fails. Her head strikes the floor. For a minute, it's like there's a skylight down here. She can see every star in the galaxy.

The dog steps over her legs. It goes to explore a dark corner behind the Kodiak.

Shepard stares up. From here, the window into the hallway of the engineering deck is upside down. Liara is standing at the window, staring down at Shepard. Their eyes meet. The asari smiles faintly and touches a hand to the glass. Fingertips only.

_Did Cerberus ever tell you how they recovered your body? I gave it to them. I gave you to them, Shepard. Because they said they could rebuild you._

The commander closes her eyes and makes herself wave.


	10. Running: Liara

**Running: Liara**

It is very late when Liara and Samantha finally complete their game of chess.

The human yawns and thanks Liara. "I appreciate it," she says. "I don't get a chance to play much these days."

"It was my pleasure, Samantha. We should play again another time."

"Still smarting from your humiliating defeat?"

"Hm. For such a young person, your arrogance is remarkable."

"Well, I do work closely with the commander."

"Good point."

"Goodnight, Liara. Thanks again for this."

"Goodnight."

Liara is left alone in the mess. Humans require so much sleep! Still, the fact that most of the crew is elsewhere is nothing to complain about. She likes these quiet hours, when she can leave her cabin but still be alone.

(She has a cabin now. When she informed Shepard that she required a private space to monitor her information feeds, the commander had offered the use of the XO's cabin. Only after insisting that Liara _really_ wanted a private space because she'd had to make do with a cot behind the medbay on the original _Normandy_.)

The responsible thing to do would be to get in a few hours of work. Commander Shepard relies on the information that the Shadow Broker provides. Even if she did not, there are whole sections of information on the Crucible that have yet to be translated. So much to do.

Something in Liara rebels. Even if they are facing the Reapers, today they deserve to rest. No, not just rest. They deserve to celebrate! The genophage has been cured! A thousand years of anger and pain have finally been laid to rest by the most remarkable woman in the galaxy.

It occurs to Liara that she never congratulated Shepard. Well, she has some free time now, and chances are good that Shepard is not sleeping either.

**…**

Not only is Shepard's cabin empty, it smells odd. Liara's nostrils flare as she seeks out the source of the odor. It is harsh and chemical. Singularly unpleasant. No wonder the commander left.

Liara looks in the bathroom. A metal waste container sits in the sink, still damp. She finally recognizes the scent of cleaning supplies. What has Shepard been doing?

Where is Shepard?

**…**

From the hallway on the engineering deck, she has a clear view of the figure tirelessly running the length of the shuttle bay. Goddess, she feels tired just watching.

"How long has she been doing this?" Liara asks EDI.

"The commander left her cabin two hours, five minutes, and thirty-seven seconds ago. It took her nearly three full minutes to reach the shuttle bay and begin running." The AI pauses. "That is my reckoning by Earth Standard time. In Galactic Standard—"

"That is all right, EDI. I can do the conversion myself." She can, but she will not. It does not matter how long Shepard has been running like this. It is the running itself that is important.

There is something pure about the way a commando cares for her body, spending years of training and hours of practice honing herself into a weapon. Watching Shepard is like watching a commando. Even when the commander is only trying to… what is she doing exactly? Trying to push her body to its limits, yes, but there is more to the running than that. Liara catches glimpses of the commander's face from time to time. She cannot think of a word to describe what she sees. Something more visceral than agony, but laced through with fortitude. Eventually all signs of suffering will fade away, and Shepard will smile as though she never thought to run like this. To run like a caged thing that needs to feel the pain of slamming its body against the bars so that it can remember why it sits quietly most of the time.

The commander can never appreciate a victory until she has finished burying her reaction to the inevitable losses.

Liara resists the urge to press her forehead against the glass.

**…**

"Here."

Shepard is still lying on the ground. She opens her eyes at the sound of Liara's voice, reaches up and accepts the bottle of water the asari hands to her. "Thanks," she says quietly.

Liara sits near Shepard's left shoulder and looks down at her friend. "Do you want me to ask if you are all right?" she asks.

The human makes a face and says nothing. She pours some of the water over her face. It wets her hair and her shirt. Before Liara can offer the towel she has taken from Lieutenant Vega's stockpile of athletic supplies, Shepard has wiped herself dry with the small robe that caused her to fall. It is the same one she used to blot Liara's tears over Palavan.

"What is this called?" Liara asks, touching the garment.

Shepard looks confused. "Do you mean my sweatshirt?"

"Sweatshirt." What an unpleasant name.

For a while they say nothing.

"Do you remember my scar?" Shepard's question breaks unexpectedly into the silence.

"Scar?"

"From before. On my face?"

"I remember." Liara reaches out and traces a short stretch of Shepard's jaw with a finger. "It was right here."

"Yeah," the commander sighs. "Good." She pauses. "You never asked about it."

"About your scar?"

"When I came back, everyone asked about the scar. Even my mother, the first time she got me on vidcom. Not you, though."

Did Shepard want her to ask about it? "Well, to be fair, I knew that you were coming back. Perhaps I expected small differences?"

"You're a terrible liar, Liara. Your face turns all kinds of revealing colors. Well, shades of blue." She smiles. "You know, after you came aboard the first _Normandy, _Ashley and I decided we could trust you. We decided that because you probably didn't lie very often you were probably really bad at it."

"I can lie!"

"Not well. That's why half the ship knows that you're the Shadow Broker." The commander closes her eyes again. "Why did you give me to Cerberus?"

They have had this conversation before. More than once. Liara has never enjoyed it. "You know why."

"Pretend that I don't. Why did you give me to Cerberus?"

There are so many ways Liara could answer that question. "The galaxy needed you. They said that they could bring you back."

"The galaxy didn't think it needed me."

"I knew better."

"Know-it-all." A fond smile flickers over Shepard's face when she says the words. She opens her eyes and looks up at Liara. "Still think you made the right call?"

"Do you?" She should have asked Shepard this question a long time ago. None of this would be worth it if Shepard regretted being brought back.

"Ask me sometime when the Reapers aren't trying to kill us all."

"I am asking you now."

"Mean, so mean." The words are light, but it is clear that the commander is thinking. Her face goes still and her eyes lose their focus. "I don't know," she says finally. "I guess I still don't understand why me."

"It was selfish, really," Liara explains. She smiles despite the fact that her heart is sinking. "I did not have any other friends."

"Good-looking, intelligent asari like you? You could've made new ones."

"You really do not remember how awkward I was when we first met, do you?"

"_Was?_" Shepard teases.

Liara scowls. "I should have left you for dead."

"But you would've _missed_ me!"

"I would have gotten over it. Eventually."

"Really?"

"No."

"That might be the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

"For what it is worth, Shepard, I am telling the truth."

"That's what makes it so nice." Shepard looks away. "Liara," she says as she stares at the Kodiak, "even with all of this," she waves her hand, and Liara knows she means the war and the Reapers, not the shuttle bay, "I'm glad to be back. To be here. Honest."

It might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to Liara.


	11. Support: Liara

**Support: Liara**

"Thane!" The drell's name falls from Shepard's lips quietly, and with such feeling. Clearly, she did not mean to say it. Clearly, she loves him, no matter what she says.

The commander checks Thane for a pulse. It takes her less time than it would take to blink to find it and be back on her feet, chasing the assassin.

_When I hit the ground back at the trade center, you went after Vasir without a backward look._

Liara races after Shepard, not pleased to realize that she is feeling guilty. Taking a sword through the gut is very different from falling off a building. Especially when the fall has been slowed by biotics.

All the worst parts of Liara feel slightly vindicated when the assassin escapes.

**…**

The commander does not lower her weapon. There was a time when she would have. There was a time when Kaidan would not have pointed his weapon at her. There was a time when Liara would be breathing heavily after struggling to keep up with Garrus and Shepard as they raced through a war-torn Citadel. There was a time when it would have been Kaidan standing at Shepard's left.

_I care about Kaidan. A lot._

The galaxy is different now.

Despite everything, Liara cannot manage to be nostalgic for those simpler times. It is selfish, but she likes things better as they are now. She is happier, with herself, with life. She is more complete.

The commander tells Kaidan that she can explain why they are pointing guns at Councilor Udina. Udina snaps that Major Alenko is too intelligent to let himself be swayed by an avowed traitor. Liara can imagine how his remarks have wiped the gleeful battle-smile from Shepard's face.

(Only an idiot would call the commander a traitor. There is always a reason for her actions. Shepard could destroy the Citadel, and later, after she had been strung up by a vengeful galaxy, it would come to light that the station was actually a dormant Reaper, and that she had saved them all. Again. Honestly, Liara is not sure whether Shepard's inability to do wrong is reassuring or annoying.)

Councilor Tevos says something about having doubted Shepard in the past. Liara is proud of her species. The asari make mistakes, but they can learn from them.

Kaidan's eyes dart around uncertainly. He remembers that Shepard fought Cerberus on Mars. Shepard nods at him. She does not lower her weapon. Kaidan does.

What happens next happens too quickly for Liara. Later, she will go back and sift through security feeds. She will study the moment from every reliable angle. She needs accurate information, and all her memory can tell her is that Udina is dead, and Shepard will not look at Kaidan.

**…**

Liara finds Shepard on the floor of the Life Support Control Room. Her knees are drawn up to her chest. Wisps of dark hair that have escaped her bun float loosely around her face in an untidy halo. She stares blankly at the wall. The jacket of her dress uniform is all undone, and Liara can see the thin shirt she wears beneath it, still damp with sweat.

_How many do I have to lose? How many before it's enough?_

The last time Shepard looked like this, Ashley had died.

"Come on," Liara orders, reaching down to help Shepard to her feet.

The commander moves stiffly, as though her body does not fit the way it should. She totters slightly, and Liara slides her shoulder under Shepard's. Her arm wraps around her friend's waist. If she has to, she will use biotics to keep the human upright, but she should be strong enough to do this on her own.

Shepard closes her eyes as Liara guides her into the hall. The asari wonders why until the scent of fresh paint reminds her of the memorial wall.

THANE KRIOS

"You can open your eyes," Liara says once the doors of the elevator close safely behind them.

Shepard shakes her head. She tentatively reaches one hand out until her fingertips rest against the wall. She presses her palm to the metal and tries to take some of her weight off Liara. The asari does not let her.

**…**

There are pictures taped to the empty fish tank in the commander's cabin. Ashley Williams. Mordin Solus. Charles Pressly. Soldiers from the original _Normandy._ A fair-haired man with a stethoscope. Some humans Liara does not recognize, none of them wearing Alliance uniforms. Thane's picture will be there soon, she realizes.

_It is not about how much time you have. It is about what you do with it._

She helps Shepard sit on a stiff letter couch.

"Allers!" Shepard says suddenly, opening her eyes and sitting up.

"What's wrong?" Liara asks.

"I—the Alliance News Network. I promised them an interview about the Cerberus attack."

"Not tonight, I think," Liara says. Shepard closes her eyes again, briefly. "I have something for you, Shepard. I was going to wait to give it to you, but…."

"Really strong alcohol?" the human guesses.

"No."

"Not sure I want it, then."

"Do not argue with me. Get into the shower. I will be back here by the time you are finished." Although the two women are sitting close enough that their shoulders touch, Liara points a finger at Shepard. "Do not skimp. You are a mess. I do not wish to return only to discover that I need to wash you like a child."

The commander scoffs, amusement flashing briefly in her eyes at the thought. "Yeah, right. You wouldn't know what to do with my hair," she says.

"All the more reason to wash it yourself."

**…**

Shepard sits on the couch as Liara dims the lights in the cabin. She has brought Shepard a datapad loaded with the newest Blasto action vid.

"I thought you hated Blasto."

"I hate all action vids," Liara clarifies. "However, I am fond of Blasto. He reminds me of you." She smirks, and the commander almost smiles.

"Thane hated the Blasto movies," Shepard says quietly. "He said they were offensive."

"How many times did you make him watch them after he told you that?"

The noise the commander makes is not happy or sad. It is a sound of pain. "Six." She stares at the datapad. "Thanks."

They turn on the vid. Liara falls asleep before it is over. When she wakes up, the room is dark, and she and Shepard have leaned against other for support while they slept.


	12. Companions: Shepard

**Companions: Shepard**

Shepard never thinks to appreciate things until she can't have them anymore.

**…**

The choice on Virmire had been easy. You save the superior officer. She knows that Ashley would have done the same thing. They were so similar, the two of them.

After Virmire, she caught herself heading to the armory to chat with Ashley. She forgot that they couldn't have any more talks.

(If she reads poetry sometimes now, it's because when she does, she remembers Ashley's voice).

Seeing Kaidan on Horizon and hearing his accusations, all Shepard could think is that Ashley never would have said those things. She understood what it was to have your heart beat in time to marine marching songs even before you enlisted. She would have remembered who Shepard was, because they were the same in so many ways. She would have seen the chain around Shepard's neck that kept her with Cerberus.

Ashley never would have pointed her gun at Shepard.

**…**

Thane appears to stop the Cerberus assassin. He always materializes out of nowhere just when Shepard is about to have her ass handed to her. Watching him move—

The trained soldier in Shepard can see where the drell is slower. Where he is weaker. Where there is pain. Mostly though, she sees him glide through the air. Art. He is living art. Like a deadly butterfly. She wishes she could think of a better comparison.

A sword slides into Thane. Through Thane. He stops moving.

Shepard sees red. She flies after the assassin as quickly as she can manage, but she's too late. He gets away. Shots ring out behind her.

Thane leans against the doorway, still moving.

Shepard can't stay with him. Why is her heart hurting? She touches his hand, his face, makes him promise to wait for her. What is he going to do, that she needs him to wait?

She runs after the assassin who attacked _her_ assassin.

**…**

There's an absurd sense of pride when she lands on the Council's elevator and has to start dodging bullets. Kaidan is a good soldier, if not a good shot. He has good instincts. Good thing he can't use biotics in this tiny space.

(Good. Good is the best word for describing Kaidan. Everything he does is good, good, good.)

"I liked Alenko better when he was stuck in that hospital bed," Garrus grumbles. Shepard laughs. Liara says nothing.

Outside, in the sunshine of the courtyard, she and Kaidan point guns at each other. She can see his uncertainty, and knows if she puts down her gun, he will too.

She can't put down her gun. She's an Alliance soldier. She's a Council Spectre. She can't put down her gun. She's a Shepard, and the Shepards are fighters.

She's angry. She _won't_ put her gun down.

By the time Udina points a gun at Councilor Tevos, Shepard is glad to have the excuse to shoot something. Her family would be disappointed at her lack of professionalism.

When she turns around to usher the Council into the elevator, Shepard catches a glimpse of something on the ground. A lilac stain. Blood. She turns to Liara. The asari is no longer bleeding, but Shepard can see the tear in the sleeve of her… it's just insulting to call it armor.

"What happened?" Why can't she remember Liara being shot? Has she been that oblivious?

"I'm fine," Liara sounds exasperated, but her eyes flit to Kaidan. Shepard remembers that not everyone has as much practice dodging bullets as she does.

"You need heavier armor." Everyone needs heavier armor.

**…**

Garrus takes her to the hospital to see Thane. He's so comfortable with the Citadel, gently shoving civilians out of their way. He makes a path for Shepard. She would never have gotten to Huerta this quickly without him.

Archangel is a good name for Garrus. He protects everyone. He walks her right to the door of Thane's room and promises to be there when she comes out. (If she ever comes out).

She doesn't ask Garrus to come in with her.

It feels so fake to be there with Thane and Kolyat. No matter how much she tried, no matter what she feels for Thane, he had a real family. A wife and a son. They fit with him. He deserves them, deserves that kind of happiness. He was worth more than just dying for some politician.

Shepard isn't sure what she thinks about the afterlife, or things like that. All she knows is that if souls are real, Thane has one.

She prays with Thane and Kolyat, grateful that they invited her. It's a better way to give voice to her wishes for Thane than her own words would be.

The beauty and the rightness of the prayer fade away when Shepard realizes that Thane was praying for _her._

**…**

Garrus takes her back to the _Normandy. _Would she have been able to find the docking bay on her own right now?

Kaidan stands between her and her ship. He's out of his armor, a duffel at his feet. He looks clean. He looks rested. Shepard glances down at herself and realizes that she fought Cerberus in her dress blues. Her jacket is undone. She doesn't care. Where did she leave her armor? Heavy armor can stop blades and bullets. Everyone needs heavier armor.

Her big turian bodyguard looks to Shepard for direction. He won't abandon her. He'll get her to the ship if that's what she needs.

Shepard shakes her head slightly, and Garrus leaves.

"What's up?" How can her voice sound this normal?

"I'm trying to wrap my head around what just happened. How it all went down, it's got me… I don't know."

Kaidan thinks too much. Is that why he's always angry with her? Shepard waits.

Kaidan steps closer. She can smell his cologne. Too close and not close enough. "If I hadn't backed down first, I feel like you would have taken me out."

He's right. She would have. They both know it. She lies instead. "I trusted you. I knew you'd come around. That's all that matters."

Kaidan wants to talk about Udina. Shepard doesn't.

He asks if there's a chance he could serve on the _Normandy_ again. Hackett has offered him a position somewhere else. Kaidan would be safer somewhere else. But the ground team could use another biotic—it's not fair to keep relying on Liara and still expect her to keep up with her work as the Shadow Broker. Shepard could use another friend.

They shake hands. Kaidan grabs his bag and they walk towards the airlock. While they're in the decontamination chamber, he puts a hand on her shoulder.

"I need you to know: I'll never doubt you again," he says. "I've got your back."

Shepard believes him.

**…**

Liara rescues Shepard from all the memories in that room.

Liara guides Shepard back to her own cabin.

Liara tries to joke.

Liara makes Shepard shower.

Liara has the newest Blasto movie.

Liara falls asleep.

Liara is a good friend.

Shepard carefully shifts around on the couch so that the asari's head is propped on the human's shoulder.

_ Guide this one, Kalahira, and she will be a companion to you, as she was to me._


	13. Apologies: Shepard

**Apologies: Shepard**

The Prothean is mean to Liara. Shepard does not approve. _She_ is the only one allowed to be mean to Liara.

(Not really. No one is allowed to be mean to Liara. Shepard thinks of all the people who have been mean to the asari. The krogan battlemaster on Therum. Tela Vasir. Does Matriarch Benezia count? The old Shadow Broker. The Prothean should be careful. Apparently, Shepard kills everyone who is mean to Liara.)

She refuses to be impressed. So he was asleep for fifty thousand years. Big deal. Shepard has been dead, and she didn't come back and treat everyone like they were beneath her.

No one can ever introduce the Prothean to a hanar. If he knew that there was a race of sentient beings that worshiped his kind, he'd be even more insufferable than his is right now.

His attention has shifted back to Shepard, which means that he is mocking her again. "Stand in the ashes of a trillion dead souls, and ask the ghosts if honor matters." He mocks her honor.

Shepard stares at him. Is he trying to scare her, with the thought of so many dead? She accepts the price. It's all right. She has already destroyed an entire star system to stop the Reapers. She'd destroy a dozen more if she had to. But she tried to warn the batarian colony. She is a Shepard. Her honor matters.

The arrogant bastard sneers at her silence.

She wants to take him below, to the shuttle bay, and teach him how to dance.

"Thanks for talking with us," she says, finally. "We appreciate it." Liara frowns, clearly wanting to ask more questions. Shepard shakes her head. She can't stay in the same room as this poisonous Prothean any longer. She's certainly not going to leave Liara alone with him.

"It has been amusing," he says. "To discover the most primitive races of my time now rule the galaxy. The asari, the humans, the turians…." He trails off and chuckles.

"C'mon, Liara."

"Human," the Prothean interrupts. Someday, someday soon, Shepard will punch him in his leathery-looking face. Unless he squares away the attitude. Maybe even if he squares away the attitude.

"It's _Commander_," she reminds him.

"Commander, you may count on me. I am known as Javik."

Coming from anyone else, it would sound like a peace offering. Shepard swallows her anger. "Welcome aboard the _Normandy_, Javik."

When they're out of the room, Shepard turns to Liara. "If _he_ replaces _me_ as your favorite Prothean thing, our friendship is over."

"Too late," Liara quips.

Shepard pushes her friend in mock irritation and goes to look for Kaidan.

**…**

Surprisingly, counting Reapers isn't helping send Shepard off into a peaceful slumber. Who would have guessed? The commander is never going to be able to fall asleep.

Growing up, Shepard's mother subscribed to this irritating rule: there are no family arguments that can't be resolved during off-duty watch hours. It made it hard to be a petulant teenager when your mother insisted on waking you up in the middle of the night to talk through problems.

Shepard may not have had any formal schooling after high school, but she knows about conditioning. If she can't fall asleep, it's all Big Shepard's fault.

She rolls over onto her stomach and pulls a pillow over her head. All she wants is to go to sleep. She does not want to get up, shuffle into the elevator and head to the crew deck so that she can make all the apologies she has to.

(She doesn't even really need to apologize to anyone. It's Garrus' own fault for pushing her into that snowbank on Noveria. He had to have known that she'd retaliate! How was she supposed to know that 'Turians don't like the cold,' was code for, 'I have an immune system like a quarian?' It was only a few snowballs! And Liara… maybe she does owe Liara an apology. Shepard should have thought it through before dragging the asari to the planet where her mother had been killed. By Shepard.)

Goddamn it, Mom.

She tosses the covers to the floor. She stares up at the skylight. She makes herself climb out of bed. She finds some gym shorts. She pulls on her N7 hoodie. (She loves this sweatshirt.) She dresses the bed with neat, crisp creases. She takes the elevator down to the crew deck.

**…**

She thinks that the lights are off in the med bay. Shepard peers in one of the windows, but someone has blacked them out. If she pushes the door open, will she wake Garrus up? She can't remember if Chakwas said it was important for the turian to get some rest. He's supposed to drink plenty of fluids.

(Doctors always say that. What does it mean? There's got to be some kind of magic in fluids, but Shepard has no idea what it is. Mordin would know.)

Shepard goes into the kitchenette. She's not going to sleep, at least not until she apologizes. She's not going to apologize, at least not tonight. Well, she'll be damned if she does something productive.

There's ice cream in the freezer. Shepard doesn't care where it came from, it's hers now.

All she needs is to find a spoon.

If she doesn't find a spoon soon, she's going to use the lid. It will be hard to figure out how to turn the lid into an eating utensil, but Shepard has faced tougher challenges. Like the Reapers.

Damn it, where are the spoons!

Someone touches her shoulder. Liara is standing behind her, wide-eyed. Her clothes are wrinkled. If she were human, her hair would be sticking up at odd angles. Clearly, she'd been sleeping.

Well, now Shepard feels extra guilty. "I can't find…" she says lamely.

Liara goes to a drawer and silently produces a spoon.

"Did I wake you up?"

"I wasn't sleeping. In fact, I was glad to hear the noise. I—I could use a distraction."

Shepard takes another spoon from the drawer and opens the ice cream. She leans against a counter and gestures for Liara to join her. "We both know that I'm excellent at distracting people."

"Please refrain from causing anything to explode."

"No promises," Shepard smiles. She eats a spoonful of ice cream. "This is good." She's surprised. Pleasantly surprised, for once. "So, what's on your mind?"

Liara shakes her head and examines the ice cream. She tentatively digs her spoon into it.

"Spill," the commander orders.

Liara stays quiet.

"Hey." Shepard bangs her shoulder against Liara's. The asari winces. "Tell me what's on your mind or I take away the sugar." She lifts the container above her head, threatening.

"I've been thinking about how long it took the Reapers to eradicate the Protheans, and how long they'll need for us." Liara moves away from the counter and starts pacing. If she's using contractions, Liara is either very tired or very upset. Shepard puts down the ice cream. "It took them centuries to conquer the Protheans. We're not quite so widespread, but it would still take at least one hundred years." Her hands move through the air. Shepard can imagine Liara lecturing at a university. She should be safe, a professor. The universe is unfair.

"It's selfish," Liara says. Shepard has a hard time picturing Liara being selfish. "It's selfish, but I keep thinking… if we fail… I'm only a hundred and nine, Shepard." She stops walking and looks at the commander. "I could live to see the entire cycle come to an end."

How does she handle this? Shepard picks up the ice cream, takes a nonchalant bite. "Only one hundred and nine, huh?" She raises an eyebrow and tilts the container towards Liara.

The asari picks up her spoon and tries to smile. "It must seem strange to complain about a thousand-year lifespan."

"No stranger than your usual nonsense, T'Soni."

"I used to think it was sad that most aliens lived such short lives. Maybe it's not such a privilege to outlive so many… to witness so much death."

Shepard takes Liara's hand and wraps it around the pint. Sugar can fix everything, if you let it. (There's an idea. She should talk to Hackett about inundating the Reapers with sugar. She really needs to get more sleep.) "Don't drive yourself crazy about this. We're still in the fight."

"Only because you're still driving it forward." Liara looks Shepard dead in the eye. "We finally have other leaders on our side, but none will take us as far as you can."

Liara can't actually believe that. She _knows_ Shepard. She has to know that Shepard has no idea what she's doing.

"Sometimes I wonder how you do it," Liara says.

How Shepard does what? What does Shepard do?

"How you keep going."

Oh. That. "I think of the people I care about." Big Shepard. "That helps keep me going."

Liara offers her the ice cream. "I'm glad I'm among them." She tilts her head to the side. "I hope."

"Of course you are." What a dumb question. Liara must be tired. Otherwise she'd never have asked such a ridiculous question.

"I feel better already."

Does she, really? After today? After everything? Shepard still has to apologize for Noveria. She watches Liara, trying to figure out if she can apologize.

When she notices the commander staring at her, she frowns. "What? Do I have something on my face?" She reaches awkwardly behind herself, patting her back. "Did you put a sign on my back again?"

Shepard shakes her head. "You didn't have to come, Liara. I could've taken Kaidan. Or… the Prothean." Javik has biotic abilities, but she doesn't like him enough to remember that most of the time. Plus, the angry face he makes every time she goes off to kill things without him is _wonderful_.

"What are you talking about, Shepard?"

"Noveria?" The commander won't take the easy out Liara offers. A real friend lets you yell at her when she drags you back to the place where she killed your mother.

The asari frowns again. "Why—oh! That is very kind of you, Shepard, but I did not mind being there." Liara smiles. "Truly, I am all right."

"I don't believe you," Shepard says.

"Well, I am."

"How?" (How can Liara stand to look at Shepard? If the person who killed Big Shepard wanted the commander to give them vital data, watch their back in a fight, and wake them up from nightmares, Shepard would take advantage of their stupidity to kill them the first chance she got.)

* * *

**_Author's Note:_**_To those of you who left reviews that I couldn't reply to, I appreciate it, and I'm sorry I couldn't send you something a bit more personalized. _


	14. Dessert: Liara

**Dessert: Liara**

Cerberus will not even have to try very hard to locate them at the rate that things are going.

"Badassfully: I didn't ask to be partnered with you, Blasto." Liara remembers Kaidan being more serious and mature than this. For some reason, now that he is back on the _Normandy_ he reminds her of Shepard. The galaxy only needs one Shepard.

"No solid-waste excrement. You dislike the manner in which this Spectre operates." Some days, Liara suspects that even one Shepard might be too much.

"Badassfully: No, you're one of the best damn cops I've worked with."

They are supposed to be looking for a Prothean relic of some sort. Ostensibly. To listen to Shepard and Kaidan however, a person would think that the ground team was on Eden Prime for some sort of impromptu reenactment of every vid in the Blasto franchise.

"Then what is the difficulty? Aside from your sister." Oblivious to her friend's irritation, Shepard continues to quote the film. After a good deal of bickering, Kaidan acceded to her request to voice Blasto's lines. Shepard claimed that her experience as a Spectre gave her unique insight into the character.

"Badassfully: The problem is that I can't work with a partner who doesn't respect me."

"This one greatly respects you. But you care more about protocol than stopping the vorcha."

It occurs to Liara that the main characters of the sixth Blasto vid might actually be a decent representation of the differences between Shepard and Kaidan.

"Badassfully: Doing it by the book is what separates us from them."

"Okay, and then the vorcha show up," Shepard says. "And Blasto goes, 'Spawn of questionable parantage. The vorcha. Get to cover.'"

Kaidan grins. "I love that part. Watching a hanar and an elcor argue."

"It almost makes up for the bit that came right before," Shepard agrees.

"Can we talk about how much I love hearing an elcor say 'badassfully'?"

"Yeah," Shepard agrees. "It's a pretty awesome word."

Liara wants to bang her head against one of the colonists' prefabricated housing units. When she gets back to the _Normandy,_ she is going to take an electromagnet to every Blasto vid on the ship.

**…**

Glyph has updates. The population of Tyvor killed themselves. The entire colony. They agreed it was better to kill themselves with nuclear weapons than to face the Reapers. Glyph assures her that their deaths would have been instantaneous.

"That's enough, info drone!" she snaps.

Liara considers asking EDI to help her break Glyph, but she does not want to have to organize all of the incoming data herself.

She sits on her bed and pours over information on a datapad. She sits in her chair and stares at the plans for the Cruicible. She looks out the window and tries to imagine what it was like for the people of Tyvor to make that decision. Did they vote? Did some politician just make the decision for all of them? Did most of them die in their sleep, unaware of what was happening?

Would she rather die? If she was not on the _Normandy_, would she be too afraid to fight?

There had to have been people who did not want to die.

There were children on that planet.

Goddess. Oh, Goddess. Keep them safe, wherever they are. Give them peace.

**…**

Liara jerks awake, gasping and terrified. When did she fall asleep? She keeps seeing explosions, smelling smoke. Are these her memories of the Citadel, or her fears?

Dreams should not be terrifying.

There are loud sounds coming from elsewhere on the crew deck. Liara leaves her cabin to investigate. She is not afraid to fight.

Shepard is in the kitchenette, banging cabinets and shaking drawers. Does the human know what time it is? Liara sighs, but she feels herself smile.

She walks over to Shepard and puts a hand on her arm. The commander turns around quickly, frantically. Loose hair brushes against her face. She's wearing that sweatshirt again. If it were not for the dark circles under her eyes, Shepard would look soft and comfortable.

Instead, she looks guilty. "I can't find…"

Liara glances at the container in Shepard's hand. A human dessert. What is it called? She has had it before, once or twice. It's similar to something that they have in Thessia. She takes a spoon out of a drawer and holds it up.

Shepard doesn't take it. "Did I wake you up?"

"I was glad to hear the noise," Liara assures her. "I—I could use a distraction."

The commander grabs another spoon, closing the drawer more loudly than necessary. "Well, we both know that I'm excellent at distracting people." She hops up onto the counter and pats the spot next to her.

Liara smiles as she steps into the offered place, but she refuses to respond to Shepard's questions. She does not want to burden Shepard. Shepard keeps pushing. Liara tries hiding by taking a bite of the dessert. It really is good. Different, full of human flavors, but sweet. She likes it.

"Hey!" Shepard nudges Liara a bit too hard and demands to know what is bothering Liara. "Tell me, or I take away your sugar," she teases. She lifts the dessert over her head. As though Liara couldn't retrieve it from her. Biotic abilities have many uses.

"I've been thinking about how long it took the Reapers to eradicate the Protheans, and how long they'll need for us. It took them centuries to conquer the Protheans. We're not quite so widespread, but it would still take at least one hundred years.

"It's selfish, but keep thinking… if we fail… I'm only a hundred and nine, Shepard. I could live to see the entire cycle come to an end."

The hands wildly gesturing in front of Liara's face are empty. Where is her spoon? How did she end up on the other side of the kitchenette? She stares at Shepard.

The commander looks nonplussed. She sweeps a curl of the dessert onto her spoon, deposits it into her mouth upside-down. "Only one hundred and nine, huh?" Tilting her head to the side and raising an eyebrow, she smiles that wry smile. When Liara hesitates, Shepard extends the container and shakes it slightly, tempting.

Liara's spoon is on the counter. She picks it up and smiles at Shepard. After all these years, jokes about their ages are as comfortable as sharing a dessert.

"I used to think it was sad that most aliens lived such short lives. Maybe it's not such a privilege to outlive so many… to witness so much death."

Shepard puts the container in Liara's hands and makes the asari wrap her fingers around it. She folds her hands around Liara's for a minute, ensuring that everything is secure before she lets go.

"Don't drive yourself crazy," she orders. "We're still in this fight."

Liara reminds Shepard that the only reason that there is a fight in the first place, is because Shepard is there to keep it going. Shepard is so tireless. She wouldn't have let the news of Tyvor slow her for long. Sometimes Liara wonders how Shepard does it.

When she says that, Shepard looks confused. It's always so surprising to see Shepard doubt herself.

"How do you keep going?" Liara asks again.

Shepard's brow clears. "I think of the people I care about." She looks so serious. Too serious. Have some more dessert, Shepard.

"I'm glad I'm among them. I hope." Liara smiles.

Confused again. "Of course you are." Shepard did not see a joke, she saw an actual question.

Liara takes another bite of the—what is it called? She glances up to ask Shepard. The commander is staring at her in the oddest way.

"What? Do I have something on my face?" Shepard shakes her head. Liara puts her hands on her own shoulders. There's a joke here somewhere. "Did you put a sign on my back again?"

"You didn't have to come, Liara. I could've taken Kaidan. Or… the Prothean." The words are sudden and awkward.

"What are you talking about, Shepard?"

"Noveria."

Shepard is worried that memories of Benezia's death have been keeping her awake. To her shame, Liara has not thought of her mother all day. She has not thought of her mother in many days. Goddess, she had had a snowball fight on Noveria without a second thought.

Liara assures Shepard that she is all right.

"How?" Shepard asks.

"I—it was so long ago, Shepard. I have had time."

"No," the human shakes her head. "How are you all right? Why don't you hate me?"

Oh.

"What a foolish question," Liara says.

"It's not! I killed your mother."

"Don't be ridiculous, Shepard! You did nothing of the kind."

"I was _there!_"

"I _know._ I was there, too, remember? I held her hand when she died. She died as herself, yes, but if she had lived, she would not have been herself. You did not kill her, Shepard. You could not have. Saren had trapped her. Sovereign had trapped her. You did not kill her, you…. You set her free."

"I wanna believe you," Shepard sighs. "Liara, I want to believe you so bad."

"Then believe me." Shepard looks away. Exasperated, Liara tugs on the human's hair. Shepard turns to her and Liara hits her on the nose with her spoon. "Believe me."

"Ouch!" Shepard puts the back of her hand to her nose and scowls at Liara. "I believe you, all right? Just stop beating me up."

"Oh, please. You take harder hits every time you shake hands with Wrex." She pulls lightly on Shepard's hair again. The gesture is addictive.

"This is why I always wear my hair up," Shepard says, trying to look pitiful. "You're a bully, T'Soni."

"You're a baby."

"Well, compared to you, sure." The commander grins. "I can't believe you pulled my hair. The last time someone pulled my hair, I was in grade school."

"Were you in a fight?"

"No! I mean, I punched him, but we weren't fighting. He was just too stupid to tell me he liked me." She rolls her eyes.

"And what would you have done if he had told you?"

"Instead of pulling my hair? I…I probably would have punched him."

"Only as an expression of your affection, of course."

"Shut up, T'Soni. Anyway, you're one to talk about expressions of affection."

"Me?"

"Oh c'mon. What about Traynor?"

"Samantha?"

"Samantha?" Shepard mocks. "Yeah. My poor little communications specialist. I let her use my shower the other day—"

"You let her use your shower?"

"Yes? She came up to play chess, but she just got so excited when she saw my shower, I couldn't say no! She's got really, really big eyes." Shepard grins. "Don't get jealous. I promise that I didn't touch her! It wasn't that big a deal. Anyway, when she was thanking me, she mentioned that wanted to look good for a big date she's got coming up. Why didn't you tell me?"

Liara still has no idea why Shepard thinks that Liara is dating Samantha. She says as much.

"I… you're not? Are you sure?"

"I think I would know if I was, Shepard."

"Huh." Shepard shrugs. "She must have meant someone else then."

"Why did you assume…?"

The commander shrugs again. "I don't know. Don't you two play chess sometimes? I mean, I didn't think she was good enough for you, but I wasn't going to judge."

"Oh really, you didn't think that she was good enough for me, but you were going to let me go out with her anyway? Some friend you are."

"No, I'm pretty sure it's my job as your friend to think that no one's good enough for you."

Liara shakes her head. "You think too highly of me."

Shepard punches Liara's shoulder. "No I don't. You just don't think highly enough of yourself."


	15. Preparation: Liara

**Preparation: Liara**

Liara is going to be sick.

She cannot handle being in the temple, seeing these… things. It is too horrible. She tries not to stare at the corpse. That—It used to be a person! An asari! She watches Kaidan and Shepard, wondering if this is how they felt the first time that they saw human husks.

Liara is going to be sick.

She is sitting on one of the benches in this courtyard. It is tranquil, ancient, and beautiful in the moonlight. If it were not for the Reaper husks surrounding her, she would feel at peace.

Liara is going to be sick.

Someone puts a hand on the back of Liara's neck, and she nearly screams. Before she can do more than take a breath, her head is pushed forward. She is looking at her own feet, bent over.

"Just put your head between your knees and focus on breathing." Shepard has the perfect voice for a soldier: calm, steady, kind. Liara might as well admit that she has loved the commander's voice since Shepard first found her on Therum and promised to keep her safe. "You'll be all right."

This is very embarrassing. She is the Shadow Broker. She knows the galaxy's every sordid, upsetting secret. The knowledge that the asari are not immune to the Reapers' power of perversion should not turn her into a sniveling weakling.

"We shouldn't be wasting time, Shepard," Kaidan sounds so far away. "Your friend is counting on us to meet up with her."

"We're not wasting time. If you're nervous, start working on the lock of that door. Or walk the perimeter. She's only going to need a minute."

Liara thinks that she should point out that the last time Kaidan walked a perimeter, Dr. Coré attacked him, but she is supposed to focus on breathing.

Shepard crouches on the ground next to Liara. "I didn't want to mention this before, T'Soni, because you know how much I hate sowing contention among members of my crew, but Major Alenko and Javik have been talking about you behind your back. They think that your biotics are all flash, and that _they're_ the real heavy lifters. In fact, they've been after me to take you out of the ground team rotation altogether."

Neither man has said anything of the sort. Shepard is trying to stimulate Liara's sympathetic nervous system with insults. Regardless of this clinical knowledge, the words have an electrifying effect. Breathing is no longer something that requires focus. Liara sits up, indignant despite herself.

"None of that is true, Shepard."

The human scoffs. "I dunno, Kaidan seems okay, but you're sitting here like a quarian with a stomachache."

Liara smiles, and makes a fist as if to punch Shepard. She'll show Shepard a fight-or-flight response. The commander puts up a hand in surrender. "Don't go all blood-rage on me! There are Reapers that need killing."

Liara slaps Shepard's helmet. "That is _not _how it works," she insists.

They stand.

"You okay?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Attagirl."

Liara is going to be fine.

**…**

There are pieces of a gun—or perhaps many guns—spread out all over the floor of Shepard's cabin. Liara finds herself stopping short after the door hisses open.

"You don't have to knock, you know," Shepard's back faces the door. "I'm pretty sure I've got this thing keyed to your ID. EDI," the human glances at the ceiling, "the privacy locks in the loft are set to let Liara come and go, right?"

"That is correct, Shepard."

"Great. Now go away."

"I am always here, Shepard."

"You know what I mean. Privacy Mode or whatever you used to do when Thane… ah." Liara can see the red color of Shepard's ears and neck from where she stands. "You know what I mean," the commander mumbles.

Shepard stands and picks her way over to the door. "Sorry about the mess," she apologizes. "I swear, I didn't forget you were coming. I just didn't realize how hard it would be to do these upgrades with one hand."

Liara glances at the human's left arm, secured in a sling that is too white against the dark shirt she wears. Shepard had been shot in the shoulder while retrieving some ex-Cerberus scientists on Gellix. Javik said that he had not been able to get a barrier up to deflect the bullet in time. The asari cannot help thinking that Shepard would not have been injured if _she_ had been there.

(Regardless, taking Javik on a ground mission seems to have done a great deal for the commander's relationship with the Prothean. Instead of being openly hostile towards each other, like two varren with a piece of carrion, they are wary and grudgingly respectful. Like two varren who snarl at each other over individual kills.)

"Hey!" Shepard smiles. "You want to help me with this?"

That is not why Liara is here. She shakes her head and glances at the capsule she holds in her hands.

"Oh, right," these words are voiced with decidedly less enthusiasm. "You wanted to talk about work."

What if Shepard does not like it? The thought had not occurred to Liara before, but now it seems the most likely outcome. Her throat is dry. "Could we sit?" she asks.

Shepard stiffly arranges herself on the couch, one hand on her knee, the other hanging uselessly in the sling. Her posture is always perfect. Liara does not sit, opting instead to kneel in front of her project and key in the code that will allow her to alter this master copy.

She explains her fears that they will not be able to stop the Reapers. She explains her fears that the knowledge they have gathered will be lost. She explains how she collected as much information as she could and put it into this device. She explains how she included every translation and linguistics program she could find. She explains how her training as an archeologist makes her uniquely qualified to create a lasting record of the galaxy. She explains how she will be seeding copies on multiple planets. She explains that she wants Shepard's opinion on one entry in specific….

Glyph chooses this moment to interrupt. "It will be a privilege to guide the future discoverers of these records," it assures them.

Shepard smirks. "Wow, you're really desperate to get rid of him, aren't you?"

"If only it were that simple," Liara mutters.

Her response makes Shepard laugh. "Okay. All right." She nods. "This seems pretty clever. I'll help out. What entry do you need my advice on? Alliance history? Human military tactics? The Battle of the Citadel?" She makes a face, "Collectors?"

"Actually," Liara presses another button and brings up a small hologram of Shepard, standing alone among the stars, "it is the entry on you." She stands.

"Me?" Shepard eases herself onto the floor and stretches her hand towards the image. It snaps to attention, flickers out of sight when she touches it. "Me?" she repeats, looking up at Liara.

"I would be honored to have your input. How would you like the galaxy to remember you?"

"Would you be willing to lie? Tell them how impressively heroic I am? That I'm twelve feet tall and ride a Thresher Maw into battle?"

Shepard is not taking this seriously. Liara is more disappointed in herself for not anticipating that the commander would make the project into a joke than she is in Shepard.

"No, I guess that would be wrong," Shepard sighs. "I—Me, Liara? Really? You could do better. What about Admiral Hackett?"

"I have an entry on notable leaders during the Reaper War."

"Oh." The human lets out a breath, as though relieved. "And this is my part of that. Okay. I thought you meant I had an entry of my own." She waves a hand. "Yeah, I know, my ego."

Shepard stares at the small version of herself. "This has to be accurate. Give them the facts. Good, bad, ugly. Have you got a little hologram of Garrus? Can I see it? He oughta cover ugly for you."

"Shepard, this entry is only about you. If it is too uncomfortable to discuss—"

"You know me better than anyone, Liara. You don't really need my input. I trust you to fill in the blanks."

Liara can't help smiling. Such a degree of trust is precious. "Are you sure?"

"I'd like it to be your call."

Liara talks about Shepard's childhood on starships—what she knows of it. She talks about how loyalty to the Alliance military is woven into Shepard's soul. She talks about how the galaxy has never seen a soldier deadlier than Shepard. She talks about how Shepard accepted responsibility for an entire galaxy. She talks about how Shepard strives so hard to make peace. She talks about how Shepard has come to symbolize hope to so many. She talks about how it was a privilege to know Shepard.

It sounds a bit like a diary entry, but Liara does not care. Everyone should be so lucky to know Shepard the way she does. There is no doubt that she is blushing, but she believes every word she has spoken.

She has to wait for her courage to build, but she manages to look at Shepard, finally.

The commander is smiling in a strange, beautiful way. Has Shepard ever smiled at Liara like this? No amusement, no wryness, just happiness. And… wonder? Liara cannot remember. She thinks she might be seeing the commander as she would have been in a universe without Reapers.

But she's rubbing her face with her good hand. Is she—? Liara has never seen Shepard cry. What did she say that was wrong?

She kneels next to Shepard. "I'm sorry," she starts to say.

Shepard pulls Liara into a fierce hug with her good arm and buries her face in the asari's shoulder. Humans cry when they are happy, she remembers.

"Sh, sh," Liara soothes. "Don't cry." She rubs Shepard's back, as though the human is a child. "If anything, you should be proud. After all, I did just write your name in the stars."

* * *

_**Author's Note:** Thanks again to all of you for sticking with me this far. I hope you're enjoying it!_


	16. Misunderstandings: Shepard

**Misunderstandings: Shepard**

Just once, it would be nice to have a mission in a well-lit, pleasant place that has plenty of cover for humans and asari, but none for Reapers. Instead, this monastery is like something out of a bad horror vid. It's dark, Shepard can hear inhuman screams in the distance, and there are no bodies, only bloodstains.

Next time Liara asks for a favor, Shepard is going to say no. She _hates_ horror vids.

It's almost a relief to find the body of one of the commandos, but then Shepard just has to pick up the datapad lying next to the woman and hear her final message to her bondmate. How does that work, loving someone so much that you're thinking of them as you lie dying? Shepard glances at Kaidan. She's pretty sure your love for your mother or your relatives isn't supposed to be the most intense feeling in your life. What's wrong with Shepard that she can't feel in color? Why is everything gray to her?

As they move further into the scary, abandoned monastery, a sudden noise behind her almost makes the commander wet her pants.

"Did you hear that?" she demands, whirling around with guns at the ready.

"Ah. Sorry," Kaidan says. "I tripped."

And that is why Shepard can't figure out if she loves him. "What the hell, Alenko!"

**…**

Wrenching the gun out of Samara's hand doesn't seem like enough, so Shepard punches the justicar square in the jaw before she can think about how there's a good chance she won't live to regret the action.

Liara gasps in horror.

Samara touches her lip. There's purple blood on her fingertips. Her eyes narrow. Shit.

Shepard's brain finally catches up to the rest of her, and she realizes that she has done a very, very stupid thing. She blames the adrenaline.

Hopefully, the Code of the Justicars demands that insolent humans be treated with compassion and given a pass the first time they clock you.

Shepard is terrified. No. Shepard is angry.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" If she's angry, she can't be terrified. "Samara, I realize that you're trying to be a good mother," in your own special way, "but in no universe is it a good idea for you to _kill yourself_ in front of your daughter! That's just selfish! Knock it off!

"You can't possibly be thinking straight. Falare already lost a sister today. Don't make her lose you too, you—" She manages not to call Samara an idiot, but it is a close thing.

(She's not thinking about her own mother and how the _Orizaba_ might have been blown to pieces in front of Shepard's eyes, and she never would have recognized it. She's not thinking about how she hasn't asked Hackett about Big Shepard because not knowing is better than having her gone.)

Oh, thank God. Falare is talking to her mother. Distracting Samara so that the justicar doesn't remember to kill Shepard.

A hand on the small of Shepard's back pushes her towards Cortez and the Kodiak. "You have no idea how fortunate you are," Liara whispers. "Idiot."

**…**

The shuttle bay of her ship is full of ex-Cerberus scientists. There is nowhere to run. Not that Chakwas would let her run sprints if the lowest deck of the _Normandy_ was clear. Shepard glowers at the sling on her arm. Stupid Cerberus. Stupid Prothean.

(She will never, ever admit that working with Javik was actually not that bad. Or that he knows what he's doing. He's a good soldier. A terrible person, one she fantasizes about tossing out of an airlock, but a good soldier. Wait. Haven't a lot of people described Shepard like that? Not as a terrible person, but as a good soldier they still wouldn't mind tossing out an airlock? Damn.)

Look at how mature she is, not throwing assault rifle mods across the room in frustration just because modding a weapon requires more than one hand. In her next life, Shepard should be a hanar. Although she'd miss her thumbs. And her sense of humor. She wonders if hanar will be around for the next life.

Someone knocks at the door. "Shepard?"

"It's open!" she calls to Liara. She had forgotten that she promised to talk to Liara about some project the asari had been working on. Did it have to do with the Crucible? Shepard needs to read her emails more closely.

Shepard reminds Liara that she doesn't have to knock. She asks EDI to give them some privacy, and in the process reminds everyone how awkward the hero of the Skyllian Blitz is. Fortunately, Liara is all business.

(To think that Anderson was going to use the _Normandy_ as his mobile command center. That means he would have been sleeping in…. Stop thinking about that. It's creepy.)

She sits on the couch while Liara launches into an overly detailed presentation. She doesn't think they're going to beat the Reapers. Shepard frowns and tunes her out. If the commander wanted pessimism, she could call up the Council. Blah, blah, blah, special projects, translations, Reapers. Need your advice on one entry in particular, Shepard, blah.

(Shepard is pretty sure that one of the mods scattered across the floor will speed bullets from her assault rifle to the point where they can break through those shields some Cerberus troopers carry. She scans the floor, searching for it.)

The asari says something about sending copies of whatever this little box is into space.

The Shadow Broker's VI pops up and babbles excitedly. Shepard laughs. Now Liara's desire to shoot this… thing into space makes a lot more sense. "Wow, you're really desperate to get rid of him aren't you?"

Liara glares at the tiny VI and mutters darkly. Shepard laughs again. She tries not to think about the fact that Liara is betting on Shepard screwing up.

"So, what entry do you need my help with? Alliance history? Human military tactics? The fights on the Citadel?" What else would someone as smart as Liara think Shepard was qualified to talk about? "Collectors?"

Liara smiles and suddenly Shepard is staring at a tiny hologram of herself. She kneels on the ground to examine it better. "Me?" she asks.

It's so detailed. Perfect, from her usual hairstyle to… it's wearing her favorite sweatshirt!

It means a lot that Liara didn't put tiny Shepard in dress blues. "Me," she breathes.

"I would be honored to have your input," Liara sounds stiff. "How would you like the galaxy to remember you?"

Right. This is for future generations. To give them a leg up on fighting the Reapers when Shepard fails everyone.

Well, if Shepard is going to lose this fight for the galaxy, she might as well sound like a legend when the next cycle starts. "Would you be willing to lie? Tell them how impressively heroic I am? That I'm twelve feet tall and ride a Thresher Maw into battle?"

No. If sentient life is going to stop the Reapers next time, they can't lie now. Shepard just wishes someone else could get the blame.

Liara promises that all the military leaders are going to go into the chronicle of shame. That makes Shepard feel better.

Then Liara explains that Shepard is going to be showcased on her own. "If it is too uncomfortable to discuss—"

"You know be better than anyone, Liara. You don't really need my input. I trust you to fill in the blanks." Shepard is tired of playing this game. Go away so I can mess with my guns some more, Liara. Go away so I can stop feeling so hopeless. It hurts that Liara doesn't really believe in Shepard. "I'd like it to be your call." I can't stop you anyway.

Liara smiles. Shepard stares at the tiny electronic version of herself. It's surrounded by stars, like a hero. She wants to crush it.

Liara starts pacing the cabin. She can never seem to stand still when she's thinking. "Let us start with the fact that humanity's most famous officer was born and raised in space. She grew up on Alliance military vessels, living with her mother, travelling the galaxy, and learning what it meant to be a soldier. Although there were not many other children on these ships, Commander Shepard was close to her mother, and to the rest of her family."

Shepard glances at Mike's holo, where it hangs on the memorial wall she's created on the fishtank. She misses him so much already.

"There was never any doubt in Shepard's mind that she would join the Alliance military," Liara continues. "It was in her blood to be a soldier, the deadliest in the Alliance. She could handle any weapon in the galaxy with an efficiency and expertise that was not only impressive, but beautiful."

The person Liara is describing doesn't sound like a failure.

"When she uncovered a Prothean beacon on Eden Prime warning of the Reapers, Commander Shepard did not shy away from the ugly realities presented to her. Instead, she accepted responsibility for the fate of every soul in the galaxy, and spared no effort in warning and preparing others. Denial could not stop her, and neither could death.

"Even grudges that were centuries old were little more than obstacles to be overcome. Shepard settled grudges between many factions and species. Although she was born to be a warrior, she sought to make peace where she could. Never asking anything for herself, she has given hope to so many in these dark times."

Shepard is staring at Liara. She is fairly sure that no one has ever thought this highly of her. How could she have thought Liara doubted her? Shepard doesn't deserve the asari's friendship.

Liara turns and looks directly at Shepard. "And it was a privilege to know her," she finishes.

Shepard's eyes are stinging. An eyelash, probably. She pushes on her eyes with the fingers of her right hand, trying to fix it.

Suddenly, Liara is there, pulling Shepard's hand away from her face. Liara looks so worried. Is something wrong?

Liara says something, but Shepard can't hear it. She wraps her arm tightly around her friend, and then she can't help crying. No one has ever cared about Shepard this much.

Liara is rubbing the length of Shepard's back. Firm, soothing. "Don't cry," Liara says quietly. "If anything you should be proud. After all, I did just write your name in the stars."

Shepard tries to say thank you. Shepard tries to apologize. Shepard tries to explain that she is not good enough for Liara.

All Shepard can manage is to hug Liara and hope the asari can read her mind.


	17. Dress: Shepard

**Dress: Shepard**

"What the goddamn hell are you wearing?" Zaeed demands. Hello, Zaeed. Nice to see you too.

"It's a dress," Shepard snaps at the bounty hunter. "Where's Ambassador Korlak?" Why do requests for Shepard's help never come at a convenient time? By no stretch of the imagination is she proficient enough to perform a rescue mission in fancy shoes. It required years of practice before she could finally wear heels for a few hours without being crippled by pain.

"He's right there," Zaeed gestures at a chair. "I know it's a dress," he continues as Shepard moves to untie the diplomat. "What I don't know is why the hell you're wearing it. In case you'd forgotten, there's a war on."

Shepard had not realized how little she missed the bad-tempered mercenary. She ignores him and questions the volus instead. For a few minutes, she showers the ambassador with praise and implied threats. He gives up the name of the turian colony Cerberus plans to attack. He gives his promise that the volus bombing fleet will join the Allied forces.

"You still haven't told me what the dress is for," Zaeed says as they leave the safehouse.

"Yeah, well, why'd you kidnap the volus ambassador?"

"Poor planning," he grunts. "Thought I was gonna be sticking it to a high-level Cerberus informant, not a round robot-person. What's with the dress?"

Shepard rolls her eyes. "I have a date!" she snaps.

"I thought I heard that Krios died."

He is so insensitive. "He did. Don't make me punch you."

The old man chuckles. "You couldn't even dent me. I remember this one time—"

**…**

Shepard had the idea for the crew to meet at Purgatory tonight. There are reasons to celebrate. The _Normandy_ shed dozens of unnecessary ex-Cerberus passengers today. More importantly, Dr. Chakwas has finally agreed to liberate the commander's arm from its sling.

Shepard had the idea for the crew to meet at Purgatory tonight. Kaidan had the idea to meet for dinner before the club.

She actually bought a dress. Finding one she liked took longer than she'd thought. Then she'd stopped by the Spectre headquarters to pick up a package, and gotten stuck with the Korlak case.

She is so late.

When she sits down at their table, she is flustered. Her hair is a perfect disaster. It keeps falling in her eyes. She should have worn it up. Her purse is too big. It keeps falling off the table.

"I'm sorry—" she starts.

"You should be," Kaidan responds, not looking up from the digital menu. "I've been waiting for ages, and they don't even have beer." Shepard's temper flares. What the hell? He's the one who picked this stupid restaurant.

Before she can say anything, Kaidan glances up. He's having a hard time keeping a straight face. When he sees Shepard struggling with anger, he bursts out laughing.

"I hate you," she says.

"Nah," he disagrees. He's right.

Dinner is nice. They don't talk often enough. Shepard is always busy with something, and Kaidan is always… not where Shepard is.

He holds her hand at one point. He tells her that he wants more moments like this. Moments with people he cares about.

She wants to kiss him. She loves the color of his eyes, and the way his shoulders fill out his fatigues. (Why is he wearing fatigues, by the way? Shepard feels overdressed. She wishes Kaidan would tell her she looks nice. Even if she doesn't.) She loves the weight of his hand on hers, the calluses on his palm. She loves that he remembers her from before the Reapers.

She loves the memory of him.

She's not sure whether she loves Kaidan.

She takes her hand back. She makes a fist. They don't look at each other for a little while.

A waiter refills Shepard's wineglass. She and Kaidan agree: they wish there was beer.

Somehow, they stumble onto the topic of sleeping. Of not sleeping.

Kaidan's not sleeping. "I'm just a little restless," he brushes it off.

"I've had a few nightmares myself," Shepard admits.

"The war's not the only thing keeping me up." Kaidan doesn't understand. She never had nightmares before this. He's forgotten the dreamless way she used to sleep. They both have.

"You've got something worse than the Reapers bothering you?" Shepard is afraid that she knows what it is. She hopes she's wrong. She hopes Kaidan is afraid of EDI, or something.

"I wonder about us," he says.

The word makes Shepard flinch. "Us?"

He can understand why Shepard needed Thane. He can move past Thane. He says that he wants to make things work. He says that he wants something real between them. Kaidan still loves Shepard.

All she thinks about are his hands on her. The taste of his kiss.

Deep feelings. There are deep feelings in Kaidan's eyes. Next to him, Shepard is shallower than a puddle.

He wants Shepard. He wants to know what Shepard wants.

Except for the day she enlisted, she's never known what she wants.

**…**

"Oh, great, you're up." Shepard was worried that Liara would be sleeping. "I missed you. EDI said you left early?"

"Yes." Liara studies Shepard. "You look very nice."

Finally! Someone acknowledges that Shepard looks good. "Thanks. But actually I'm here to ask a favor." This is not entirely true, but Shepard is awkward. She turns around and glances over her shoulder at Liara. "I, uh, can't get out of it. Can you help? Just undo the clasp-thing at the top and unzip it a little? Please?"

The asari makes an incredulous face. "You managed to dress yourself on your own, but you cannot undress yourself without aid? I confess to doubting you." She crosses her arms.

Shepard sighs. "Fine, if you must know, I had someone at the store help me get into it. And that was hard enough! I definitely can't bend my arm the right way to get out of it." She glances pitifully at her left shoulder, which really is a little tender. Liara appears unimpressed. "Please, please, just unzip me!"

"Surely you've faced more difficult challenges." What a terrible friend.

"Liara," Shepard says seriously. "I can't fight the Reapers in this thing!"

"I do not agree," Liara retorts. "I think that the sight of you in a dress might actually be an asset to the war."

"Because I'd be so distracting to the other side?" Shepard grins.

"Because the Reapers would be beside themselves with laughter at the sight of you struggling to stay upright in those shoes." Liara smirks, but since she does undo the fastener and tug the zipper down a little, Shepard can't punch her.

"Thanks," Shepard says. She turns to the door, but stops. She almost forgot. "Um."

"Do you need help with your shoes as well?" Shepard laughs at Liara's question. She deserves that one.

"No. Uh." This had seemed like a good idea at the time. How does she explain? She has no idea. Oh, well. A direct, frontal assault usually works well when she can't think of a clever plan of attack.

"Here." She takes the small pouch out of her evening bag and thrusts it at Liara. "This is for you. You don't have any, and you should. So. Um." Is she supposed to stay and watch Liara open the gift? What if she doesn't like it?

"I know it's not like what you did for me, with the capsule, because even though that was great, it wasn't just some gift, because it was important too, and I never would have thought of something like that anyway, but I've been trying to think of something that I could do for you that would be the same—well, not the same, but close, or something. This isn't really close, but I just wanted… to…. Anyway, that's for you."

Shepard can't quite remember what she just said. All she knows is that there were a lot of words. Liara looks amused.

This was a bad idea. Shepard should have just had someone deliver the tags to Liara. "I—uh, I should go?" Yeah. She needs to get out of these shoes.


	18. Identification: Liara

**Identification: Liara**

Lieutenant Vega and Lieutenant Cortez cannot seem to keep themselves from discussing combat vehicles.

"At least the Mako can take a few hits."

Their argument is nearly as annoying as the overly loud music pulsing through this club.

"I'd hope so! That thing handles like a drunk rhino. No agility whatsoever—"

"More like a bull that can climb and climb for days!"

Regardless of the differences between the two vehicles, Liara is confident that with Commander Shepard behind the controls both vehicles would be put through maneuvers they were not designed for.

"It can only climb because of its stupid, vertically aligned mass effect fields. Jump or stick. No speed, no lateral movement…"

Liara is miserable. She would rather be fighting a thresher maw.

Both Lieutenant Vega and Lieutenant Cortez stop talking. Why are they staring at Liara? She looks around Purgatory to find Garrus. (Despite her enthusiasm for her 'limb liberation celebration,' Shepard has yet to arrive.) He is safely five meters or so away, chatting with Joker. It is impossible that he could have done something to make Liara ridiculous from all the way over there. Isn't it?

Abruptly, Lieutenant Vega throws his head back and begins laughing. "I knew I liked the doc, Esteban!"

The shorter man frowns. "I apologize for myself and my compatriot, Dr. T'Soni. One of us," he glares at Lieutenant Vega, "is just so thickheaded, that when you argue with him, you forget all about other people. We didn't mean to make you miserable."

She stares at the men. "I—"

"Maybe you didn't realize you were speaking." Lieutenant Cortez smiles when she looks at him. It is odd that the two of them have not spoken more; the pilot has the gentle attitude that she typically seeks out. Or used to seek out. It has been a few years since Liara was skittish enough to need kindness. It has been a few years since Liara realized that by not appearing gentle, she could protect herself.

Returning to the _Normandy_ has given Liara the chance to appreciate kindness again. She responds to the lieutenant's smile with a smile of her own.

"I am not normally so irritable," she says apologetically. "I do not care for the music in this place. And, I confess, I cannot help feeling slightly sick to my stomach every time someone mentions the Mako."

"Really?" Lieutenant Vega leans in, interested. "Why? The Mako's a great vehicle. Its main cannon was so—"

"Let Shepard drive you up the side of a mountain in a Mako, Lieutenant Vega, and then tell me if you are still fond of the vehicle."

"Wait. You call the commander 'Shepard,' but I'm 'Lieutenant Vega?' Come on, Doc! It's just James. Especially when I'm on shore leave, talking to pretty asari." He seems to have missed her point.

Lieutenant Cortez groans. "I'm sorry about him, Dr. T'Soni. Really, I am. I don't know why the commander even lets him off the ship."

"Shepard values my morale," James says. "Unlike some people." He punches Lieutenant Cortez in the shoulder and winks at Liara. "I've got to get another drink, Doc. If you want to help me try to rebuild my shattered morale, I'll be at the bar. Away from this bundle of negativity." He punches Lieutenant Cortez again and saunters away.

"I apologize for him again. On behalf of the entire human race."

Liara smiles. "There is no need, Lieutenant Cortez. James has a very refreshing perspective. It's… simple." She looks him in the eye. "Am I making sense?"

"I think so. He's a good kid. The Alliance could use more soldiers like him. Ah, don't tell him that I said that. In case you hadn't noticed, his ego is enough of a problem already."

"I can sympathize. Shepard is the same way."

"The commander? Really?" The lieutenant shrugs. "I'll take your word for it, Dr. T'Soni. You know her better than I do. Although, she does keep coming down to the shuttle bay and checking in while I'm working. That's the reason I'm here tonight, actually. She's been after me to take some shore leave. I figured that this was the easiest way to get her off my back."

Liara chuckles. "She can be very persistent."

"Lucky for us. If she wasn't, the galaxy would be doing a lot worse than it is."

"Perhaps the better response would have been 'lucky for the galaxy.' On a personal level, her obstinacy is sometimes exhausting."

"Only sometimes? You're tougher than you look, Doctor. Just five minutes of talking with Shepard is usually enough to wipe me out."

"I may have built up a tolerance to her over the years."

"Built up a tolerance?" he smiles. "I like that."

They stand in silence for a while. Liara pushes the ice in her glass around with the tiny straw the human bartender insisted on giving her.

Lieutenant Cortez clears his throat. "Hey, Doctor."

"Please, Lieutenant, 'Liara' is fine."

"Liara. Can I ask you a favor?"

"Of course, Lieutenant."

He shakes his head. "Steve," he corrects her.

"Of course, Steve."

"Dance with me?" He holds up a hand. "Before you say no, keep in mind that not only will you be helping me relax as per Shepard's orders, but you'll be helping me irritate Vega beyond all reason."

"I—" Liara has never greatly enjoyed dancing. But Steve seems like a nice man. Garrus mentioned something about the pilot's bondmate having died in a Collector attack. Although he smiles, he is clearly still in mourning.

"All right," she says. After all, this is shore leave.

As they make their way to the dance floor, a thought occurs to Liara. Shepard is going to have a field day with this. She sighs.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. It is just that lately Shepard has been particularly tenacious in her attempts to jump start my romantic life. If she finds out I danced with you, I will never hear the end of it."

Steve makes an odd face. "Yeah, I don't think you'll have that problem. Not because of dancing with me. Shepard knows that, uh, women aren't really my type."

"And yet, knowing her, that fact will not likely be a deterrent."

**…**

Shepard is wearing a dress. Her hair is down. She is carrying a small handbag. There are traces of makeup on her face. She looks different. Very pretty, but very different. If Liara glimpsed the commander in a group of humans, she might not recognize her. What an unsettling thought.

"You look very nice." Liara would recognize Shepard's smile anywhere.

Shepard needs help extricating herself from her dress. Liara cannot help teasing her friend. Imagine, the one person responsible for uniting the armies of the galaxy, held hostage by her own clothing. Athame herself would not be able to resist mocking Shepard just a little.

The commander was not anticipating anything but immediate assistance. She seems to be panicking, trying to use actual arguments to persuade Liara. "I can't fight the Reapers in this thing!"

"I do not agree." Shepard thinks heavy armor is the only appropriate apparel for battle. Tomorrow, Liara should introduce the human to some commandos. "I think that the sight of you in a dress might actually be an asset to the war."

"Because I'd be so distracting to the other side?"

It is more likely that Shepard would only distract her own allies, if Kaidan and James are accurate representations of human men. Or if Liara is an accurate representation of asari. Thank the goddess that krogan and turians don't seem to find Shepard attractive. Although there was that one note in the old Shadow Broker's files that mentioned someone on Tutchanka had put in a formal breeding request for Shepard.

"Because the Reapers would be beside themselves with laughter at the sight of you struggling to stay upright in those shoes."

Despite her joking, Liara helps Shepard. She always does.

Shepard doesn't leave quite yet. She shifts her weight from foot to foot, the way she does during a lull in battle, when she is trying to decide what direction to attack from next.

Liara asks if Shepard needs further help undressing, and decides that she is not going to speak again until the human leaves.

"Here." Shepard extends her hand to Liara. She is holding a small cloth bag. "This is for you."

The contents of the bag produce a metallic clink when Liara takes it. She can't detect any odor, nor has she received an electrical shock. It seems unlikely that something this small would explode, but one can never be sure. Liara is torn between wanting to believe that it really is just a gift, and years of experience with Shepard's sense of humor.

Has Shepard been talking this whole time? Her face is very red. Liara bites back laughter.

"I should go."

Oh, no! It really was a gift, and now Liara has hurt Shepard's feelings. She puts a hand on the human's arm. When the commander pauses, Liara opens the pouch.

T'SONI

LIARA

0251452691 SAN

XK POSITIVE

ATHAMEST

"Identification tags?" she asks. The metallic discs are cool in her palm. Heavier than she remembers Shepard's being.

"Yeah," Shepard says, staring at the floor. "Like I said, you don't have any," she rubs the back of her neck and glances quickly at Liara, "I mean, you've been on the _Normandy_ as long as anyone. You've earned them."

"Thank you, Shepard." Her hand closes around the tags.

"Can you read them all right? You understand them?"

Liara shakes her head, blushing slightly.

"That's all right," Shepard smiles. "Here." She takes the tags from Liara. "So, your name is simple enough. 'SAN' stands for Systems Alliance Navy, and there's your blood type and religion. You're an Athamest, not a Siarist, right?" Liara nods. "Good. I mean, I thought you were, but I never asked, and so I wasn't completely sure, but I didn't want to leave it out—"

"Does the number mean something?" Liara asks as much out of ignorance as to stop Shepard's babbling.

"That's your ID number. I, uh, I got Admiral Hackett to pull some strings to get you that number. If you, um, without the zero, and if you use the human standard alphabet, it spells your mom's name." Shepard pushes the tags back at Liara, embarrassed. "Anyway, welcome to the Alliance, T'Soni."

The asari has never been a soldier, but these tags make her feel as though she has come home.

* * *

_**Author's Note: **The update schedule is going to slow for a bit as I deal with some deadlines. Look for something in four days. I know! Such a deprivation._

_As always, thanks for taking the time to read. I hope you're enjoying the story._


	19. Reactions: Liara

**Reactions: Liara**

"It's good to see you again, Tali."

"You too, Kaidan. How's the omni-tool? Still using the Logic Arrest?"

"Only because it's still the best model."

"Not for running multiple attack processes simultaneously. You need a Nexus."

"Nexus shield enhancements are years behind the curve!"

"That's why you overclock th—"

"For the love of whatever you two hold sacred, please stop!" Shepard's voice sounds pained. Liara exchanges an amused glance with Samantha where they sit in the CIC, monitoring the ground team's communications. "What have I done?" Shepard mutters. "I've saddled myself with the two biggest nerds in space, that's what I've done."

"Hey!" Tali sounds offended. "I am not!"

"'Dat's vhy you overclock de mainframe of de holographic shield generating intervace-thingy.'" The commander's imitation of Tali's accent makes Kaidan laugh.

"No one would ever accuse you of knowing too much about tech, Shepard," he says.

"And you! You're just as bad!" Liara can imagine that Shepard is shaking her head in counterfeit despair. "Nerds," she says again, quietly.

Tali will not let the insult pass unremarked. "What about you and Garrus with your guns? Or, or Liara and the Protheans?"

"Garrus and I are cool," Shepard insists. "And Liara's too pretty to be a nerd. Plus, scary, deadly biotics. Not nerdy at all. You're just jealous, _Admiral_." She says the rank like a joke. Liara can imagine the salute that accompanies the title.

"I'm have deadly biotics," Kaidan points out.

"Not scary, deadly biotics. And anyway, you're still not as pretty as Liara. Sorry, Alenko."

Back in the CIC, Samantha nudges Liara. "Look at you, all cool and composed," she laughs. "If Commander Shepard was down there telling everyone how pretty _I_ am, you can bet I'd be blushing."

Of course she isn't blushing. She's done some growing up since her days on the first _Normandy_. She's not as credulous as she once was. Still, Liara wishes Shepard would remember that everyone can hear her when she says things like that. People might get the wrong idea.

**…**

Liara manages to catch Tali by the arm. "All right?" she whispers. The quarian nods, and Liara joins the group heading into the war room.

All anyone can do is trail in Shepard's wake.

"Are they still in there?" she asks Samantha as she pulls her helmet off. The yeoman nods. "Good." The word falls tightly out of the commander's throat. Liara suspects that nothing good is about to happen.

Shepard throws her helmet to the floor and starts yanking off her gauntlets.

Not even the phalanx of guards blocking the exit to the war room can deter the quarian admirals from arguing. Han'Gerrel looks up when the doors open.

"Shepard!" he says. "The mission parameters changed. You're military. You understand that."

"You asked for my help to withdraw your fleet safely." The muscles in Shepard's face and neck are tight as she approaches the quarian. Her voice is deceptively calm. "You opened fire on an ally. On your own Admiral Zorah. You ignored my radio hails." The commander stands close to Gerrel, her face nearly touching his mask. She is taller than he is.

"The dreadnought was defenseless!" he counters. "Destroying it will have crippled the geth and given us an advantage that we sorely—"

Shepard's fist connects solidly with the man's gut, but she does not so much as blink. "You've jeopardized your people and this alliance. I'd advise you to keep further comments to yourself."

One of the other admirals takes a step towards the human. "You can't—" she begins.

"_Can't?_" Shepard tilts her head to the side as though she is curious about the meaning of the word. "Don't you tell me what I can't do; I'm not under your command. I'm the representative of the Systems Alliance Military. I'm a Spectre. He should be grateful I didn't crack his mask open."

Although he is doubled over, Gerrel refuses to be quiet. "Can't… break… our… masks…" he scoffs. "Too… tough…."

Shepard slams her fist through the metal sheeting that covers the central console. The entire room stares at her as she slowly extricates an intact hand. "Don't you tell me what I can't do," she repeats dispassionately. Liara hears something deeper in the words.

"I want him off of my ship," she orders the marines standing guard. If the others choose to stay, they're to be confined to this room, under armed guard unless I give permission for them to visit other parts of the ship." She glances coldly at Tali. "No exceptions."

"Shepard!" Admiral Raan exclaims. "I understand you are angry…."

The commander leaves the war room without looking back. Her hand is not even scratched.

**…**

"Shepard." The commander continues not to turn around. She unfastens each piece of her armor and neatly places it on her bed, face down, letting it out to the air. Liara holds Shepard's helmet and gauntlets. Where was all this care earlier, when she was throwing things around and punching quarians?

"You cannot ignore me forever."

"I'd appreciate you just putting down that stuff and leaving, Doctor." Shepard keeps her back to Liara.

"I am not leaving. Not until you explain what was really going on back there."

"I'm allowed to have a bad day, Doctor. Go away."

"No." She does not know precisely what Shepard needs, but she'll find out.

"Go away, _please_."

"No."

Shepard turns and tries to step past Liara. "You need to move."

"No."

They face each other, both knowing that if it comes down to a physical confrontation, Shepard can easily push past Liara. Unless the asari uses biotics.

The commander will not look Liara in the eye. "You need to move," she repeats. Again, Liara hears that deeper note from the confrontation with Admiral Gerrel.

"Shepard," her friend stiffens when Liara places her hands on her cheeks, "it's all right."

"No," Shepard protests.

"Yes." Liara nods as she says the word, and Shepard's eyes meet hers for a moment. Her mouth opens and closes, as though she wants to speak. "Let me help."

Shepard grasps Liara's wrists and pulls them away from her face. "No," she says again. "I'm fine."

"I know you're lying!" Liara is getting frustrated. "Goddess, what is wrong with you? You've been shot at before! You're acting like—like a—"

The muscles in Shepard's jaw tighten. "Like a what? A mech?" She sneers. "That's what I am, isn't it? Just wires and implants. Maybe a few organic pieces. Is Shepard on that ship? No worries! Fire away! We can always glue her back together if she breaks again!"

The venom is sudden and unexpected after such prolonged indifference. A few years ago, it might have moved Liara to tears. A part of her wants to cry; it is Liara's fault that Shepard struggles to accept her own humanity. But this is a war. Shepard is a soldier. She needs to remember that. There is not time to waste on tears or pity. Liara stares back at Shepard, meeting her glare for glare.

"You are acting like an idiot," Liara says coldly. "But I believe you are aware of that." She turns her back and quits the cabin. Just as Shepard wants.


	20. Indestructible: Shepard

**Indestructible: Shepard **

"Shepard to fleet. Hold fire! I repeat: hold fire!" Nothing. No response from the quarians. She can still hear their chatter though. They're ignoring her.

She is tired of being thrown away by people, sent on suicide missions that 'no one else could possibly survive.' No matter what she is made of, she feels like she is more than just pieces of scrap metal masked by skin and a positive attitude.

How she feels has to count for something.

"Shepard to _Normandy_. Come in _Normandy_."

"_Normandy_ here." It's Traynor.

The hanger bay is up ahead. A way to safety.

Right now she feels rage. Rage sings through her. "I want every damn quarian on the ship contained! Send a team of marines to secure the war room."

"I—I mean, aye-aye, ma'am." At another time, the commander would be tempted to smile. Traynor is on her way to becoming a full-fledged marine.

When they reach the fighter and cram into the cargo bay, Tali shifts so that she is practically in Kaidan's lap. Once, it might have upset Shepard, but she accepts that the quarian doesn't want to be near her right now. That's all right. The feeling is mutual. She doesn't want any quarians, with their knowledge of AI and fondness for dissection, too close to her.

**…**

Traynor is waiting for her when Shepard storms off of the elevator and onto the main deck of the _Normandy._ Best yeoman Shepard has ever served with.

"They're still there?" She yanks her helmet off, not caring what happens to her hair. She drops it carelessly. A fall won't kill it. It's not really alive.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good." Shepard is clenching her teeth. She detaches her gauntlets and lets those fall. She knows better than to treat her armor like this. Her mother would be horrified.

Three of the quarian admirals are still in the war room. One of them is missing. The smart one. What's his name? It doesn't matter.

"Shepard!" She knows that voice. _Heavy fleet, all forward! Take out the dreadnaught!_ And then silence. Nothing more from that voice when she tried to reason with it. Oh, she has things to say to that voice.

"You're military," the voice says. "You understand." How _dare_ he. How dare he compare them! Shepard is military. The quarian is not. No matter what Shepard is made of, she doesn't turn on her allies. Not like this pathetic excuse for an admiral.

(Is there something wrong with the galaxy when a geth understands honor and loyalty better than a man who has risen to the pinnacle of his race's military ranks? Do organics deserve to be wiped off the face of the galaxy?)

"You asked for my help to withdraw your fleet safely, and when I gave it, you opened fire on an ally. On your own admiral. You ignored my radio hails." No one ignores Shepard. Not when her goddamn life is on the line.

He tries to justify himself. Shepard can't contain her rage. Loss of control is something that's organic, isn't it? The geth never lose control. EDI never panics.

Orders. They want to give her orders on her own damn ship? Have they forgotten what she is?

She slams her fist through the main display console. When they see the metal grafted to her bones, they'll—

There is no metal. Nothing can break Shepard. Like a Reaper, she's nearly indestructible. She stares at the unbroken skin of her hand. She feels oddly detached from everything. Are they staring? Let them stare. She can turn off her feelings. It's incredible.

Where did all her anger go?

"I want him off my ship," she tells the marines, pointing to the admiral who tried to kill her. "If the others choose to stay, they're to be confined to this room, under armed guard unless I give permission for them to visit other parts of the ship." The corporal nods, salutes. Good.

She should go.

**…**

Why won't the asari go away? In the CIC, Shepard told Kaidan to come up to her cabin after thirty minutes. She would like to shower before he arrives. Otherwise, she'll have to wait until after she talks him into accepting XO duties, and she feels grimy. She would like to shower.

"You need to move." This is Shepard's cabin. Shouldn't she be able to do what she likes here?

"No."

She is very irritating, the way she stands directly in Shepard's path. It would be so easy just to push her aside. They both know Shepard is stronger. "You need to move." She doesn't want to hurt Liara.

The asari puts her hands on either side of Shepard's face. "It's all right," she soothes.

There's nothing wrong. Why does the doctor think something is wrong? There's nothing wrong. "No," Shepard explains. The word sounds weak. But Shepard has no weakness. She knows what she is. (It knows what it is?)

"Yes." Yes? Shepard looks just long enough to see that the asari is worried. Is there something wrong? Liara would know if there was, wouldn't she? She knows everything. "Let me help."

"No." There's nothing wrong. "I'm fine." Liara needs to go away. She's confusing things.

"I know you're lying!" The asari sounds angry. Has Shepard ever seen her angry? She can't remember. It doesn't matter.

"Goddess, what is wrong with you?"

Shepard is fine! There's nothing wrong with her! The galaxy has problems, not her. Everyone wants Shepard to fix things, fine! It's what she was built for, wasn't it? She doesn't need any more fixing!

"You've been shot at before!"

Shepard knows! She doesn't care about that!

"You're acting like—like a—"

Suddenly, all her anger comes flooding back. It surges through her and spills out of her mouth when she can't contain any more.

"Like a what? A mech? That's what I am, isn't it? Just wires and implants. Maybe a few organic pieces. Is Shepard on that ship? No worries! Fire away! We can always glue her back together if she breaks again!"

Shepard thought she wanted Liara to understand, if that would make her go away. But she doesn't want to be a machine. Not really. She doesn't want Liara to think that she's a machine.

Liara looks disgusted. "You are acting like an idiot, although I believe you are aware of that."

Is she leaving? She can't go, not now!

"Liara." Too quiet. "Liara," Shepard repeats, reaching out. She catches the asari's wrist. Liara stiffens.

How does Shepard fix this?

"I'm sorry?"

"I know." Liara sounds tired. She still won't turn around. "You cannot afford to indulge in self-pity, Shepard. I know that it is unfair, but the galaxy is relying on you to save it. The galaxy is demanding, it is ungrateful, and it will never appreciate you.

"Admiral Gerrel did not care about your death because he saw the destruction of the dreadnaught only as a chance to advance the needs of his people. You have to be above such petty concerns. You cannot have favorites or hold grudges. Human, asari, quarian, turian, krogan, drell, salarian, hanar, volus, batarian, elcor…all the races have placed their fate in your hands. It is a terrible burden, yes. But you must carry it. No one else can."

"The geth?" Shepard asks.

Liara turns around. "All the races," she says.

Shepard nods. "I'm sorry," she repeats.

"I know." Liara pulls her hand away and leaves.

Shepard doesn't know what to do. She stands in the center of her cabin, uncertain. When Kaidan knocks, she blinks and goes to the door to let him in.

* * *

**_Author's Note: _**_This is embarrassing to admit, but if you head over to Spicy-obsession's page and check out 'Not with a bang,' you'll find a story that does pretty much everything this one does with 1/20th of the words. Seriously, go read it. It's great._


	21. Hurting: Shepard

**Hurting: Shepard**

Everything hurts.

Her throat hurts. Rannoch is a rocky, dry planet. Shepard keeps swallowing, or licking her lips, trying to find moisture where there is none. Thane would have liked it here. He could have lived here and never struggled to breathe. If the quarians hadn't lost their homeworld, would they have rescued the drell? Would Thane have been born here and lived a healthy life? If he'd never been an assassin, would Irikah have been alive when he met Shepard? Would he have even met his wife? Would he have met Shepard?

Her arms hurt. The targeting laser is far, far heavier than Shepard had been led to believe. There's been so little time between missions that she's had no chance to put down her weapons. Even in the geth consensus, Legion had given her a gun to eliminate traces of Reaper code. Who knew that an imaginary rifle would have such an intense recoil? It doesn't seem fair. Virtual reality should be less real than actual reality.

Her pride hurts. She had to apologize to Admiral Gerrel for punching him, and to all the other admirals for threatening them and trying to confine them like prisoners. Never mind that they've done nothing to try and earn her trust back. No one has apologized for trying to shoot down the dreadnaught, or not pulling their civilians out of harm's way, or asking Shepard to win a goddamn planet for them before they'll agree to help in the fight against the Reapers. (Tali doesn't seem angry anymore, though. That's something.)

Her knees hurt. She's faster and stronger than she used to be, but even her new body has its limits. There is only so far she can run before every step feels like a stab wound. Given how often she has had to run for her life over the past few days, she wonders if she should talk to Dr. Chakwas about taking stims before a mission so that ignoring the pain will be easier. If only stims worked on everything.

Her head hurts. These days, any sort of thinking gives her headaches. She still hasn't decided if she's herself or just a machine Cerberus built to take orders and believe that it is Shepard. Legion thinks that Shepard's thought processes are organic. So does EDI. What's more important? The way you think, or the body your thoughts live in? Does it even matter at all?

Her eyes sting and water from the intense burst of light that flared when a quarian ship managed to shoot the Reaper's firing chamber.

If they could hit it there again, they could take it out. But they can't launch a precision strike. Shepard hates jamming towers.

Legion's voice breaks through Shepard's thoughts. "We may be able to escape—"

Escape means losing Rannoch. Which means losing the quarian fleet. Which could mean losing the war. No.

"No! Pull over!" She jumps down from the hovercraft's gun turret. "EDI, patch the quarians to the _Normandy's _weapons systems. I want the targeting laser synced up to the whole damn fleet!"

EDI starts working. Legion asks if Shepard needs assistance.

No. "Get out of here, Legion. I'll take it from here." Shepard is the only one who can face down this thing. She was rebuilt to kill Reapers.

(She takes a moment to think of herself as a Reaper-killing machine and to laugh at the irony.)

Even though it's been hit once, this Reaper looks bigger than the one on Tutchanka. Probably because Shepard is trying to stare it down alone. She wonders if this is a bad idea.

No. No, this is the right idea.

This is what Liara meant. Shepard thinks she understands. But everything still hurts.

**…**

"Shepard, I don't have much time to talk. I'm due for a briefing on the situation on Earth. You can give your mission assessment to my assistant. I'll expect the full report in the next solar cycle." Not even Hackett wants to talk to her. Fair enough. Shepard salutes and the admiral nods. "Hackett out."

The admiral's hologram flickers out. Shepard drums her fingers on the console, waiting. You'd think an ensign would hop to it faster than—

The commander closes her eyes, counts to three and opens them again. If she's hallucinating, at least she's consistent.

"Mom?" Her voice cracks.

Captain—no wait, there are extra stripes on her shoulders—_Admiral_ Shepard smiles. "Hi, Baby."

"Mom!" It's the first time in days Shepard has laughed. "Mom, you're not dead!" She presses the back of her hand to her mouth, trying not to cry.

"You sound disappointed," her mother teases. Shepard shakes her head furiously. Never. Never, never, never.

"I killed a Reaper today, Mom!" Oh, God. Shepard sounds like she's in grade school. I did good on that math test, Mom! I got in a fight with Jenna Miller and gave her a bloody nose, Mom!

"I heard," the admiral laughs. "Didn't you get the quarians a planet, too? And fix up that whole mess with the geth?" This is their family. Killing Reapers and settling old grudges are just part of what's expected of the Shepards.

"There's a whole squad of geth primes coming your way. Not to mention a bunch of quarian engineers and a couple fleets."

"Well, we could use them, that's for sure."

"Are things bad where you are?"

Admiral Shepard shakes her head. "No. We're safe enough, and we've got the whole First Fleet here for protection. As long as no one leaks our location to the Reapers, we ought to be fine for now." She grins at her daughter. "Just don't send us any spies, okay, Baby?"

"I won't," Shepard promises. "Mom." There are so many things to say. Why isn't there more time? "Mom, I don't know what you've heard about—about everyone, but Mars…."

"Hackett mentioned that you were there, right after the Reapers hit Earth. He said Cerberus attacked the base." Her mother's voice trails away.

"That's right. I was there with a small team. Terrorists coming out of our—" Big Shepard frowns, and Shepard changes what she was going to say, "—ears."

"Did you—"

The commander's shoulders slump. "I—We—They had help from the inside. We only found one survivor."

"I figured as much." Shepard can't tell if her mother is upset. She tries to remember what her parents were like around each other. It's harder than it should be. They had lived such separate lives.

Admiral Shepard runs a hand through her hair. "You know about Second Fleet, right?"

"Mike," Shepard chokes. Her mother nods.

"Oh, Baby, I wish you were here. I sure could use a hug."

"I wish you were here, too, Mom." She hangs her head, "I'm so confused. I'm not even sure if I'm human anymore. No one can tell me, either. If you were here, you'd know if I wasn't me. You'd know if I was just a machine."

"Hey, now! None of that. You don't need me to tell you who you are. I don't care if you start bleeding oil and needing to plug yourself in at night." The admiral points a finger at her daughter. "You're a Shepard. You're my little girl. Don't you ever doubt yourself. Oh, if I was on the _Normandy_, I'd be shaking some sense into you, you can count on that.

"Listen to me." Big Shepard tilts her chin up and looks down her nose at her daughter the way she always does when Baby Shepard steps out of line. "I saw some of the vids of your debriefings on the Alpha Relay. You still bite the left corner of your lower lip when you're nervous or you're trying to think. With just your canines. You've been doing that since you got teeth. What kind of machine would be able to copy that?"

"How do you _know_ though? I mean, you haven't seen me in—"

"How old were you when your Uncle Jack lost his leg? They grafted a bionic one on, remember? That doesn't make him a machine. So what if you've got some metal bits in you? You're still you."

"But—"

"Don't argue with me. I'm right. You know I'm right, and you're just being difficult. Knock it off."

Shepard doesn't hurt as much. "Thanks, Mom."

Her mother stretches her arms out, as though she's trying to reach across space to hold Shepard. "Anytime, Baby."


	22. Lines: Liara

**Lines: Liara**

Liara wishes that there was a way to use the quantum-entangled communicators from her cabin. It would save her quite a bit of time if she did not have to travel to the war room every time she needs to forward information to the teams working on the Crucible. Still, she supposes that she should just feel grateful that she has a reliable method of relating information to the Crucible Project.

She is rereading her notes for a third time as she walks, reassuring herself that all of her translations are correct. One mistake could result in a flaw that would doom all sentient life to extinction. It is imperative that she is absolutely—

"Oh!" Shepard is in the communications room. She scrambles to her feet and hastily wipes at her face. Liara can see that the commander has been crying.

Well. This is undeniably awkward.

**…**

Liara has spent the past few days reminding herself that she did the right thing by drawing a harsh line for Shepard. The galaxy is relying on the commander. How many times does the woman need to be told that she is human before she will believe it? She cannot afford to doubt herself. Not now. Drawing a harsh line for Shepard was the right thing to do.

If Liara has spent the past few days avoiding Shepard, it is not because she doubts herself. It is because….

In all fairness, Shepard has spent a good deal of time in her cabin of late. The argument could be made that she has been trying to keep away from the rest of the crew.

An argument could also be made that Shepard has been trying to protect herself from more harsh lines.

Liara had been listening to the comm channels when Shepard was on Rannoch today. She had not been overly concerned. The commander was well able to handle hostile geth, Reaper technological upgrades or no.

The _Normandy _had launched its precision strike; the mission was over. Everything had been routine. A thud. "Ow! Shit." Shepard had fallen off something. But then, "_Shit!_ Reaper! Shepard to fleet: it's not a Reaper base, it's a live Reaper!"

Goddess, knowing that Shepard was fleeing a Reaper had been bad enough. Why did the woman have to make it worse by staying behind to face the monster alone? On foot? Liara had never imagined that she could feel so afraid for someone else.

Although Shepard not only survived the encounter, but had been triumphant, Liara wonders if it is her fault that Shepard did something so foolish. Maybe a harsh line had not been what the commander needed. Maybe she had needed to be told yet again that she was human.

Why is it that whenever Liara fails to be sympathetic to Shepard the human inevitably ends up doing something incredibly foolish that makes the asari wish she had acted differently?

How many times did Shepard ask her to join the team that was fighting the Collectors? Liara had insisted that she could not abandon her search for the Shadow Broker, but in the end, Shepard had been the one to provide her with information that located the Broker. Nothing would have changed if she had gone with Shepard. Instead, she had stayed on Illium, where she had been lonely and unhappy. She left the commander alone with Cerberus. The terrorist organization Liara had given her to. They had sent Shepard on a suicide mission, and Liara had not been there to look after her.

Not that Shepard had needed Liara. She had had Joker, Garrus, Dr. Chakwas, Tali, and Thane.

**…**

Liara turns to leave. "I am sorry. I did not realize that you were here. I can come back—"

"No, no," Shepard says. "I was just…."

They stare at each other. Liara hates how uncomfortable this is.

"I should go."

"Why were you crying, Shepard?"

The expression on the commander's face is almost an angry one. "It's personal," she says. "Don't worry, it won't distract me from saving the galaxy."

Liara flinches. She deserves that.

When Shepard tries to brush past her, Liara grabs her wrist. "Shepard…." She does not want things to continue like this. She does not want them to be angry strangers. Liara does not have enough friends to afford to lose one. All her charm and laughter notwithstanding, neither does Shepard.

"Liara…." There is a warning note in her friend's voice.

"Why were you crying?"

The commander's stiff posture relaxes. A small smile lights her face, and she stares past Liara to somewhere far away. For a moment, Liara cannot believe that reconciliation can be this simple. "I told you, it's personal. That means it's none of your business. If you want to know, go ask one of your spies. I'm sure the Shadow Broker has operatives capable of getting information on Commander Shepard."

Nothing is ever simple. "You!" Liara lets go of Shepard. "Oh, you are impossible!"

"_I'm_ impossible?"

"Yes, yes you are. You know perfectly well that you are human, no matter what changes Cerberus has made to your body. This," she pokes Shepard's forehead, "and this," she jabs a finger at the place she thinks the human heart is, "are the same as they always were. All I was _trying _to say was that you should stop torturing yourself by creating problems where none exist. Admiral Gerrel fired on the dreadnaught because he is an idiot, not because you are expendable!"

Before she can lose her nerve, Liara pulls the commander into a tight hug. Shepard is unresponsive, but Liara feels better. She feels reassured that the human is more or less unharmed from her encounter with the Reaper. "Goddess knows that I never intended for you to throw yourself at a Reaper," she murmurs. "You are _not_ expendable."

"You say the sweetest things sometimes." The familiar, joking tones of Shepard's voice are not quite sufficient to make Liara cry. However, the feel of Shepard's arms around her, in a healthy and forgiving embrace, is.

"No," the commander says. "Now don't you cry. Today's too good a day for tears. We've got happy quarians, happy geth, and a happy human. Sad asari are just going to ruin things for everyone else."

Liara pulls away and rubs the tears off her cheeks. "You were crying earlier," she reminds Shepard.

"Happy tears."

"Why were you crying?"

"You're very nosy. You know that, right?"

"I am aware."

Shepard looks blissful. "My mom's safe. She's alive, with Hackett at the Crucible. She even got promoted! Rear Admiral Hannah Shepard." Her laugh is a sound of perfect happiness. At this moment, regardless of what else is happening in the galaxy, Shepard is happy.

"Congratulations." Liara had not even known that Shepard was concerned for her mother's safety. Has the commander been keeping her worries to herself? Garrus probably knew. Garrus and Kaidan.

"I just talked to her. She says hello, by the way."

What? "To me?"

"To all the original _Normandy_ crew. She says she met you all at, uh, my memorial service?"

"Oh. I did not attend the service."

Shepard grins, thinking Liara is joking. "Are you trying to hurt my feelings?"

"I was… looking for you."

"Well, I guess that's a good excuse. Too bad though. I think you and Mom would get along."

"What is she like?"

"She's…I don't even know how to describe her. I guess she looks a little like me. Taller. Prettier. A lot tougher." Shepard shrugs. "You know. I mean, didn't you see her all those times you had to dig through my mind to find the message from the beacon?"

Liara shakes her head. Humans have no idea how a joining works. "I may have caught disjointed glimpses of your memories, but nothing substantial. I was trying to respect your privacy."

"The one and only time," Shepard teases. "Tell you what though. If you're really curious, about my mom, you should just look again. I've got plenty of memories, and we've got down time."

Liara takes a step back. The commander cannot possibly understand what she is offering. Humans have no idea what a joining means. "No," she says as emphatically as she can. "No."

"Well, let me know if you change your mind. I really don't mind sharing with you."

"I appreciate your offer, but—Shepard, you are not aware of what you are—"

"Letting the galaxy's biggest information broker dig through all my secrets?" Shepard shrugs. "I don't have any. Or, if I do, you already know them. We're friends."

No, Shepard has no idea what she is offering.


	23. Children: Liara

**Children: Liara**

"You are… wet. Why are you all wet?" Liara frowns at Shepard as the sodden human dashes into the elevator.

"It's Vakarian's fault," the commander blithely responds.

"No it's not! Hold the elevator! Shepard, I swear—" The turian is trying to reach them, but Shepard pushes the 'close' button with feverish intensity, and the doors begin to slide shut. The last words Liara hears from their old friend are, "I'm going to talk to Allers! Tonight, in the 'Battlespace:' Commander Shepard is a sore—"

"Ha!" Shepard grins proudly at Liara. Mischief drips from her smile the way water drips from her hair. She looks incredibly young, and Liara can suddenly picture the commander as a child with a gap in her teeth and trouble in her wake. A sudden urge to laugh rises in the asari.

"Smug turian," Shepard says. "Can you keep a secret?"

Liara plants a hand on her hip. "Do you ever listen to me when I try to explain exactly what it is that the Shadow Broker does?"

The other woman raises her eyebrows and tilts her head back. "Oh, right. So that's a yes, then?" Liara nods. "You can't tell Garrus," Shepard insists. "If he knew the truth his spiky little heart would break."

"If he knew the truth about what? What have the two of you been doing? Should I contact Commander Bailey and ask him to refrain from arresting the two of you? Again?"

"Hey! I'm a Spectre! No one arrests me." Shepard has an exasperatingly simple understanding of the privileges afforded members of the Council's Special Tactics and Reconnaissance branch.

"I notice that you have not answered my question."

"Well, we weren't doing anything illegal, so you can calm down. At least," Shepard bites her lip absently, "I don't think it was illegal. Not _very_ illegal."

"What did you do?"

"It was Garrus' idea." Shepard describes the afternoon she has spent with Garrus, picnicking at one of the highest points on the Presidium and shooting empty liquor bottles with sniper rifles. "It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do, Liara," Shepard sighs.

"I would think that with the amount of practical experience you have shooting things that slight inebriation would not significantly affect your ability to target something as mundane as a bottle."

"Shooting the bottles was easy," the commander explains. "The hard part was missing them."

Liara is confused.

"Well, I just wanted to make Garrus happy, so I…." Shepard shrugs and twists her shirt in her hands so that even more water collects on the floor.

Ah. Does Shepard realize what a sweet person she is?

"You should've seen him the first time I whiffed it. He was like a little kid, jumping up and down and making fun of me. It was adorable." The commander raises her hands above her hands and hops a little, in imitation.

"And yet, somehow, you ended up wet?"

"Well, it was cute at first, but then he wouldn't shut up about how he beat me. I had to prove I can still do things better than he can. And the lake just looked so good from way up there." The human looks smug. "Garrus can't swim."

Of course. Liara rubs her temples. "Thank the Goddess he refrained from imitating your behavior."

"Well, someone had to drive the car back," Shepard says in an unusually pragmatic tone as the doors slide open to reveal the hanger bay where the _Normandy _is docked.

**…**

"Hey, Broker, you awake?" Shepard never bothers to use the ship's comm system. Liara wonders if the world is ending, and then remembers that that joke is no longer humorous.

"I am, Commander."

"Want some company?"

Liara stares at the stack of datapads full of information that she should be sorting through. She turns her back on them and darkens her monitors. "I believe I do."

**…**

Although Shepard's hair is damp, it has an odd air of organization to it, unlike earlier. It seems likely that she has recently taken a shower. Her clothes are the unofficial uniform she dons when relaxing: foolishly bare feet, odd, loose pants that seem to have been tailored for a much shorter individual, and the sweatshirt she loves so much. The sight brings a smile to Liara's face. Is it odd that despite the longevity of their friendship the asari always feels honored that Shepard is willing to let Liara see her in a state of relative vulnerability?

"You sure I'm not bothering you?" Her actions belie her hesitant question. Shepard crosses the room without pausing and sits cross-legged on Liara's bed.

The information broker smothers a smile. "It is good to see you."

"Because you don't see me every day?"

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah," Shepard grins. "I do. It's good to see you, too."

"Of course it is. I imagine that after a day spent with Garrus you have regained an appreciation for more sedate companions."

"Sedate? Don't kid yourself, T'Soni. You're as much trouble as the rest of us. More, even, what with your penchant for enacting revenge on hapless yahgs. You just have more dignity, so you hide it better."

"My 'penchant' for 'enacting' revenge on 'hapless' yahgs?" Despite her best efforts, Liara cannot mask the amusement in her voice.

"Kaidan installed one of those Word-of-the-Day programs on my omni-tool, and Tali won't tell me how to get rid of it." Shepard grimaces in frustration. "I learned some new words. Don't make me hurt you."

Liara settles next to her friend on the bed. "Was that a threat? Are you no longer intimidated by my biotics?"

"Who, me? Jack the Giant Killer?" Liara assumes a human would be familiar with this reference. "Afraid of Dr. T'Soni?" The exaggeratedly worried face the commander makes is comical. "You bet your ass I'm afraid of Dr. T'Soni. That crazy lady is the Shadow Broker. Unhinged, I tell you!" Shepard's affectionate smile takes the sting away from her words. She leans against Liara.

"Is there one thing you've always wanted to do before you died?" Where does Shepard come up with these questions?

"You first," Liara prompts.

"Mean," Shepard sighs. "Not to mention unfair." She lies back on the bed and stretches her arms out. Her sweatshirt slips slightly to the side, revealing the dark strap of the undergarment that covers her chest. Liara looks out the window. There is comfortable silence for a few minutes.

"When I was younger," Shepard says finally, "I wanted to be a hero when I grew up. I wanted to be the best soldier to ever come out of the Shepard family, and I wanted everyone in the galaxy to know my name. And then… Elysium, and the Citadel, and, everything….

"Now all I want to do is go back to when I was a kid, and my mom was the hero." A smile flickers over her face. "Did you know her team was one of the first ones on the ground at Mindoir in '70? She led them in an action that liberated a whole pen of captured colonists. Completely ignored her orders, but she didn't just sit there and watch the batarians torture people.

"You only had your mom, growing up; you must have seen how tough it was for her to raise you on her own." Liara thinks of the bevy of nurses and huntresses that were responsible for various aspects of her upbringing. She is not sure 'on her own' is an accurate description of Benezia's parenting style.

"Now imagine doing that on starships," Shepard continues. "And when I was born, she was younger than I am now. She's not even sixty yet—fifty-five, I think." Amusement lights Shepard's eyes. "I was an accident."

"I can understand why you would have wanted to be like her."

"I still want to be like her, I think." Shepard props herself up on her elbows and looks at Liara. "I don't think I'm ever going to get married, but even if—when, even when we win this war, there are going to be lots of orphans. Like my cousin Mike's daughter, Alice." She closes her eyes and lies back again. "I'd like to make sure there's another generation of Shepards to take care of the galaxy."


	24. Happiness: Shepard

**Happiness: Shepard**

Shepard is almost positive that Garrus is the tallest person in the universe. She loves following him around. When she does, she tilts her head back to take in his whole height and feels like a kid.

"C'mon," she wheedles now, "Where're we going?" A thought occurs to her and she stops walking. "You're not going to trick me into another hanar poetry reading, are you?"

"'This one feels like a flower….'" Garrus starts reciting. She covers her ears. "Admit it. You enjoyed it."

"I don't care if it was Ashley's birthday, that was a terrible way to remember her," Shepard mutters.

"No poetry this time, Shepard, I promise." He leads the way to a car and they get in. "Ever had that one thing you always wanted to do before you died?" the turian asks as he starts the engine.

Shepard can't think of anything that could possibly be that important. She doesn't want to think of anything that could possibly be that important to her. She makes a joke instead. "Even if I did, it's too late. I already died once."

"That's a valid point. Sad, but valid."

Shepard smirks. "My life is a study in tragedy."

"Yes, it must be so hard being you." If Garus had eyebrows, one of them would be raised in skepticism.

"Everyone is so mean to me!"

"If you wanted sympathy, you should have spent the day with Liara."

The commander crosses her arms. "She's the worst one of the whole bunch."

Garrus laughs. "To be fair, she is the most powerful information broker in the galaxy. It just wouldn't look right if she was always going on about hugs and rainbows."

"Ick. If she was like that I _definitely_ wouldn't spend any time with her."

"Rainbows are a weakness of yours then? I'll keep it in mind. For when you inevitably go mad with power and try to take over the galaxy."

The car has been climbing higher and higher during their conversation. They left the airways zoned for traffic behind almost as soon as they drove the car from the rental lot.

"I don't think we're supposed to be here," Shepard comments as they approach one of the covered bridges spanning the Presidium lakes. Sight-seeing tours pass through here so visitors can capture the magnificence of the big space station with their holo-cams.

"We're not," Garrus agrees, slowing the car. "But I've always wanted to."

"How many rules are we breaking?"

"One hundred and thirty seven," he says. "That's a new record for us." He parks the car. They high five.

(High three? High four-and-a-half? What do you call it when one person has five fingers and one person has three?)

They open the doors and get out. The turian takes a cooler out of the backseat. "I wanted to do something stupid just for the hell of it. It might be the last chance we ever get. Well, the last chance we ever get today. I have complete faith in your leadership abilities. You'll think of something stupid for us to do tomorrow."

And this is why Shepard loves Garrus.

The cooler is full of carefully labeled food and alcohol. They spend the afternoon talking, eating, joking, pretending the world isn't coming to an end. Between the warmth of sunlight and slight tipsiness, Shepard floats between sleepiness and elation. It's like being at home with family. It's perfect.

"This was an awesome idea," she sighs.

"The day's not over yet," Garrus warns her. "There's still one thing left to do."

She slides towards the edge of the bridge and stares down at the lake. "Please tell me we're going for a dip in the pool."

He chuckles. "You've never seen a turian swim, have you? It's a lot of flailing and splashing, interrupted by occasional bouts of drowning."

"Aw. Tired of having your ass saved by a girl, Vakarian?"

"Raise your hand if you haven't been killed before. What? Just me?" He stands and takes something else out of the car. His sniper rifle. "No, what I've got in mind is a little different…."

**…**

_Ever had that one thing you always wanted to do before you died?_

At least it's not a nightmare that's keeping Shepard awake tonight. That can be considered progress, right?

Why can't she think of anything she cares about that much?

If she goes down to the shuttle bay and exercises, it might clear her head. Give her some focus.

(No it won't. The only things she thinks about when she's working out are the motions and the feel of it. It's simple and freeing, and won't help her at all right now.)

She should ask people about this. Garrus has already told her what he wanted to do before he died. Maybe if she knows more about what other people want to do before they die, she can figure out how you choose something that matters to you that much.

She wonders if Kaidan is awake. He's good at thinking things through. Shepard knows that she needs that. She needs a thinker. Someone slow and deep to balance her out and keep her grounded.

What if she asks Kaidan what he wants to do before he dies and he looks at her with those big, sad eyes, and gives her that slow, crooked smile, and says something sweet and loving? What will she do?

She turns on her comm. "Hey, Broker, you awake?"

**…**

Liara should take off her coat. This is her cabin, but she never seems to be relaxed here. Shepard supposes the giant monitors and information feeds that take up the majority of the cabin have something to do with that. At least the desk in Shepard's room is far away from her bed. Far away from her gym.

Maybe Liara wears the coat because she's cold. It's certainly not very heavy. Shepard can feel heat where their shoulders touch.

"Is there one thing you've always wanted to do before you died?" she asks. Liara will have ideas. The asari always has ideas.

"You first," Liara nudges Shepard and smiles. This is not how their games work. Shepard is the difficult one. Liara is the smart one.

She lies back on the bed and tries to think. What has been constant in her life? She was born to be a marine. Her mother was disappointed that Shepard hadn't stayed in the navy proper, but you didn't say no to the N7 program.

Mom. She's always wanted to make her mother proud. What does she want to do before she dies? She wants to give her mother more reasons to be proud of Shepard.

She tells Liara about her mother. It's sad, to think that Big Shepard has never met the asari. Idly, Shepard wonders why Liara didn't want to see her memories of her mother. Maybe she misses Benezia too much.

A hand ghosts over Shepard's hair. "I can understand why you would have wanted to be like her."

The commander leans up. "I still want to be like her. I mean, I don't think I'm ever going to get married, but…." As soon as she says the words, she realizes how true they are. Damn. She needs to talk to Kaidan. "There are going to be lots of orphans when the war is over. Like my cousin Mike's daughter, Alice."

If she closes her eyes, she can see Mike's broad, smiling face. He'd brought his daughter to meet Shepard while she'd been confined the base in Vancouver. On one visit, the commander had been given special permission to go to the base's park. Alice liked the swings almost as much as she liked sitting on her father's shoulders. She had twisted her hands in Mike's wild black hair and shrieked with glee to be so high up. Born for hand-to-hand combat, Mike had winced proudly.

Shepard thinks about how Big Shepard had made everything about growing up into something special. Alice deserves that. She opens her eyes. "I'd like to make sure there's another generation of Shepards to take care of the galaxy."

"You'd be a good mother," Liara says.

"Worst liar in the galaxy," Shepard smiles. "I'd be terrible. I'd always be swearing in front of her, I'd buy her guns instead of dolls, I'd teach her about tactics and military history instead of making her do her spelling homework, and every time Uncle Garrus came to visit, we'd blow something up. To celebrate."

"And what if she wants to be a painter instead of a soldier?"

"Then I'll give her a galaxy where she can do that."

"See? You would love her. That is the most important thing."

"Would I though? I have kind of… a hard time loving people. Even people who should be easy to love."

From this angle, Liara's frown looks like it might actually be a smile. "I have seen you take extraordinary care of complete strangers. You would do no less for your own daughters."

"Daughters? Plural?" Shepard shakes her head. "No way. I know what I was like as a kid. More than one little Shepard is way, way too many. _You_ can have a big family. You and Feron. Or Traynor. Maybe Lieutenant Cortez? I think Garrus said his sister was single..." Liara scowls and pulls Shepard's hair. The commander laughs. She just can't help herself. Liara deserves to have _someone_.

"Anyway, you and some lucky fool can have lots of little blue children. And when I have Spectre business for the Council, I'll drop little Shepard off with you so that she can learn how to be calm and respectable."

Liara's laugh is quiet and sad. "You don't really see me going into civilian life, do you?"

"Why not?" Shepard doesn't have to close her eyes to picture Liara as a mother with a tiny asari daughter on her hip, a smile on her face as she protectively tucks the small blue head under her chin. "I mean, if they'd let someone like me adopt, anything's possible."

"When you save the galaxy, 'they' will give you whatever you want."

"What if I just want to be left alone?"

"Well, then you can stay with me. The Shadow Broker is supposed to be reclusive, after all."

"I still want to be a soldier."

"You could be an operative. Not one who gathers intelligence. You could lead my wetworks squad. Or help me build up my own merc band. We decimated the Broker's old one, if you remember."

"That sounds like a job offer." Shepard rolls onto her stomach and examines Liara. The asari's face doesn't give anything away. "You've actually put some thought into this."

"A little," her friend admits. "Not much. You are too loyal to the Alliance to be a serious recruitment prospect."

"Says that in my file, does it?"

"It might."

"Hm." It sounds like a good plan to Shepard. She can think of worse things than hiding out with Liara. And wouldn't it be better if the person pointing her at missions like a missile is someone she trusts? "Okay." She offers a hand to Liara. "Shake on it," she insists.

They do.


	25. Prayers: Shepard

**Prayers: Shepard**

The shuttle shakes, and Shepard pretends to stumble. It gives her an excuse to step between Liara and the monitor showing the situation on Thessia. The asari shouldn't be here. Her pain is too obvious. It's in every line of her face, in the way her mouth has been pulled tight, and in the way her eyes have turned a darker shade of blue. The commander can barely stand to look at her. She hadn't wanted Liara to come, but she hadn't been able to say no either.

"We'll find the catalyst and save Thessia," Shepard promises.

Liara does that thing she does where her eyes are trying to smile but her face just can't cooperate. "I hope you're right," she says.

"That sounds an awful lot like you think sometimes I might be wrong," Shepard teases desperately. "I'm wounded, T'Soni." What a terrible joke. It's never going to do what the commander needs it to. There's no chance it will work, but it has to. Just smile, Liara. Just stop hurting. Please, please.

Liara shakes her head. "I'm sorry, Shepard," she says quietly.

The human grips her friend's shoulder. "Hey. If you were all rainbows and hugs all the time, I wouldn't be able to stand you."

(From behind Shepard comes a disgusted noise. Ah, yes. Prothy the Prothean. She has to remember to compliment Joker on coming up with such a ridiculous moniker for Javik. When she glances back at him, he crosses his arms and looks away. Clearly, he disapproves of the crippling weakness her concern for Liara has brought to light. Because honor doesn't matter. What an ass. Why did she bring him and not Garrus?)

**…**

As she glances around, sees all the asari in their light commando uniforms, she can't help looking back at Liara. After extended arguing, she finally managed to bully her friend into strapping on a few light pieces of ceramic armor. It's terrible, but hopefully the sight of so many wounded and dying asari will force the information broker to acknowledge that sometimes Shepard might actually know what she's talking about.

On the ground, Thessia is even worse than Palavan. Worse than Earth. Worse than the Collector base.

The Collector base. She remembers Thane. Before a fight, he was always calm. She needs to be like that now. Shepard had been with Thane as they both dressed for that last battle. She remembers hearing him murmur to himself. Praying.

_When I act to defend another—Arashu, Goddess of Motherhood and Protection._

Please, Arashu. Don't let Shepard fail Thessia.

**…**

Something in her _knew_ when she saw those dead scientists. She just knew that he was in the asari temple. She could feel it.

When the Illusive Man orders his assassin to relieve Shepard of the data she's just recovered, the commander feels herself smile. Finally. Just the two of them. She can't see Kai Leng's eyes through whatever implants Cerberus has grafted to the man's face, but she's certain that he understands what this is. A rematch.

"There's only one way this ends," he says. Shepard agrees. Sword or no sword, she's going to beat him senseless, until he's lying on the ground incapable of moving. Then she'll prime a grenade and shove it between his teeth.

She owes him for Thane.

It's just the two of them… but then it isn't. Somehow, Liara is in front of Shepard. The asari reaches Kai Leng first. For some reason, the idiot goes for her pistol rather than trapping the assassin in a stasis field.

Shepard can't breathe. She's watching Liara, but all she can see is Thane. The sword sliding into him, through him. The dark color of his blood. The way he stops moving. The hole in his coat. It's going to happen again. He's going to kill Liara. Cerberus doesn't think of aliens as anything more than animals. If that.

Shepard can't reach her in time. Javik is closer, but he's still too far away.

"Arashu," she begs, "please." Don't let Shepard lose Liara.

Kai Leng knocks the gun out of Liara's hands. The commander hears her friend make a small noise. Pain, or fear. Maybe both. Leng hits Liara in the throat, hard enough to send her flying through the air. She knocks into Javik, and both aliens fall to the ground. Hard.

There's no time to mourn. No time to think. She has to be a soldier. Shepard hates Thessia. She's emptying the clip from her pistol into Leng, but the bastard has an endless supply of kinetic shields. He sneers. She drops the gun and starts running towards him. She's going to use his blood to touch up the places where her N7 stripe has been nicked. Who cares if it dries a different color?

Is it her imagination, or does his smirk falter? It doesn't matter. The assassin touches a comm on his ear. "Target the supports," he says.

What is he talking about?

A gunship appears out of nowhere. Has it been there the whole time? Has the noise of its blades been obvious to everyone else? Is Shepard's heart beating too hard, blocking out all the other sounds in the world?

The ship fires rockets at the columns holding up the roof. Shepard has to jump out of the way as one falls. She loses her grip on her gun. Stupid!

Through the smoke she can see Leng saunter towards the Prothean beacon that was hidden inside the statue of Athame. Then the floor falls away.

**…**

Well. This is a whole new sort of pain. Shepard definitely needs to start doing more muscle-building exercises for her arms. And she needs to go on less picnics. Or at least drink a little less.

(Both of those sound like horrible ideas, but if there's anything this climb is making clear, it's that Shepard's life would be a lot easier if she lost some weight. Like, all of it.)

This piece of the floor is still attached to the rest of the temple. It dangles straight down into a brand-new abyss, like a sheer rock face. Funny, her marine buddies who vacationed on Thessia only ever talked about the beaches (and the asari girls they met on the beaches… _men_). No one ever told Shepard about the rock climbing. She would have come sooner, if she'd known.

(There is something wrong with her. Unquestionably. Who thinks about vacationing at a time like this? Maybe it's a coping mechanism. Clearly, Shepard's teetering on the edge. On the edge. Ha! Oh, she really needs to see a shrink. Where's Kelly when you need her?)

She's reached the top. The floor. She's reached safety. Almost. Shepard braces her feet and starts to push herself up.

Shit! The floor/wall/rock face she was climbing falls out from under her when a distant explosion shakes the temple. Shepard falls back down. She's hanging over a very, very long fall. By one hand. Her fingers are slipping. This is going to be a very embarrassing death. It could have been prevented by diet and exercise. Wow, she has the worst final thoughts ever.

Just before she falls, someone grabs her hand. "Shepard!" Heavy breathing. Blue skin and freckles. "Hang on!"

Well. Look who's not dead after all.


	26. Shattered: Liara

**Shattered: Liara**

After hearing people pass judgment on her mother for all these years, Liara is numb to it. Javik can say what he likes. He did not know Benezia.

Shepard will not tolerate insults to her friends, however. Or insults to the people her friends love. She glares at the Prothean. "Every death is something to mourn," she insists. "The Reapers may not have mercy, but we do."

"It is their indifference which gives them power," Javik counters.

From where she sits, Liara sees Shepard clench her fists. She reaches out and puts a hand on the human's leg before Shepard can fire back at their companion. Something causes the shuttle to jerk abruptly, and the commander nearly trips. She steps closer to Liara, trying to regain her balance. By the time she is secure on her feet again, the opportunity to respond to Javik has passed.

"I'll find the catalyst and save Thessia for you," Shepard says. She stares worriedly at Liara.

"I hope you're right."

"Hey now." Shepard will not let Liara look at the ground. She slides a hand under Liara's chin and tilts her face up. "That sounds an awful lot like you think that sometimes I might be wrong," she smiles. "I'm wounded, T'Soni."

She pulls her face away. She wishes she could smile for Shepard. "I'm sorry," she whispers. It is just too hard to see Thessia like this. It is Liara's home that is burning now. Her mountains.

When she turns her face away from the commander, she catches Javik's eye. He crosses his arms in disapproval. Whether he condemns her fear for her home or her lineage, she cannot tell. Probably both. Everyone else does.

**…**

She doesn't want to leave Lieutenant Kurin and the others. She doesn't know how to explain it to Shepard or Javik. They aren't asari. They aren't watching their sisters die.

When the enemy began firing rockets at their position, Liara had stepped in to shore up the barrier without hesitation. Without thinking that her own team would be relying on her biotics. After hearing the relieved, "Thanks," from the soldier who'd been struggling on her own, nothing else mattered. She wasn't going anywhere. Only Shepard's touch on her arm and a quiet, "I'm sorry, Liara," had brought her back to her duty.

They run across the bridge, fighting Reaper creatures. It's acceptable, because each one that they kill is an enemy that won't be able to reach the others.

Two snipers on a nearby building distract a harvester that is heading towards their small team. Within minutes, both asari are dead, and Shepard is telling Liara that they have to move again. They can't stop to help. They can't go back to help. They have to go forward.

**…**

Up ahead, Javik and Shepard are talking.

"It's hard for her. She hasn't had time to get used to the asari ones, like I have with the husks or you did with the Collectors."

As usual, Javik has no pity for anyone else's struggles. "When we fought the Reapers, they turned our own children against us." Liara can't imagine anything like that. She hopes she doesn't live into an age where she doesn't have to imagine it. "They assumed that we would hesitate to kill them."

"Did you?" It's a soldier's question, to be expected from Shepard, but it is still horrible to hear the woman's curiosity. To think that only a night ago, she had sat with Liara joking about the children they would bring into this world when the war was over. A future like that seems so impossible now.

"What answer would you prefer?" Javik asks.

Liara knows. Shepard will only want to hear the truth. No matter how terrible. Shepard would be able to kill her own child to save other people's children. Liara is not as strong as Shepard. "Don't answer," she orders him, finally speaking up. "Stop talking about it."

**…**

It costs too much to reach the temple. Not even the sight of Athame's statue, and the knowledge that the Goddess herself must have had a hand in guiding them here safely is any comfort.

"Goddess of oceans," Shepard says quietly, staring up at the huge figure.

"Goddess of asari, actually." The words feel like a betrayal when they slip out of Liara's mouth. How can she find something to laugh at when Thessia is burning?

The scientists do not respond to Shepard's calls. The commander frowns. "Let's look around," she says. "Maybe one of these is the artifact we're looking for." She pulls off her helmet and smiles at Liara. A gash on one of her cheeks is bleeding. "Think you can help me out here, T'Soni? You know more about this place than either of us."

Javik snorts.

Shepard wanders around the temple a little, finally coming to a stop in front of Athame's sword. Despite everything, Liara smiles. Out of all the history, beauty and culture in this temple, Shepard is drawn to the only weapon. Of course.

"Do you think this is it?" she asks hopefully.

"No," Liara is almost sorry when she sees the human's disappointment. "This is the goddess Athame's sword. Myths say she wielded it against jealous gods who threatened our ancestors."

"Know-it-all," the commander says fondly.

"They were a race called the Oravores." Liara had forgotten that Javik is here. She turns to stare at him. What is he saying?

"Thessia had vast resources," the Prothean continues. "We protected you from them."

"You protected? But… then Athame…"

"There is more to your history than you know, asari." He shrugs.

Liara has a terrible suspicion that she will learn more than she wants to know before Thessia can be saved.

**…**

The ground beneath Liara's feet grows more unsteady with each passing moment. How can everything she has been raised to understand as the truth be so wrong? How can no one have discovered the truth? Why does this have to be the truth?

Biotics: a gift from Athame as a reward for worshiping her. "That 'gift' involved years of genetic research."

Learning to count the seasons and grow crops. "We didn't want you to starve."

The shield Athame used to protect Thessia when the heavens grew angry. "It was an asteroid strike. We deflected it."

Statues depicting Athame's guides and servants. "You really don't see the resemblance?"

A codex entry describing how the asari developed mathematics. "Before that you could only count as high as your toes. We took pity on you."

After that, Shepard stops examining artifacts. "We get it, Javik," she snaps. "You don't have to be an ass about it."

"It does the asari no good to continue to deny reality," he retorts.

"Just like it won't do her any good to have her nose rubbed in it. We get it. The Protheans are amazing. Now shut up about it."

The asari has a name.

**…**

By some miracle, Liara manages to pull Shepard out of harm's way before collapsing from exhaustion. The commander reaches down and touches Liara's neck with two fingers. Just for an instant. Checking for life. Then she exhales heavily, and runs on. After the assassin.

Thessia is Liara's home. She makes herself stand and follow Shepard.

Shepard scoops Liara's abandoned pistol off the ground. She fires at the retreating gunship. Every shot misses. The assassin escapes.

A voice crackles to life over Liara's comm unit. It's Lieutenant Kurin. It's the squad Liara abandoned. They're being decimated. From the steps of the temple, Liara watches Reapers descend on the asari positions. She hears her people's dying screams.

Shepard turns away from the sight. She places a hand on Liara's shoulder. _I'll find the catalyst and save Thessia for you._ Liara shrugs the human's touch away.

Shepard can't meet Liara's eyes. Good.

* * *

_**Author's Note: **As always, thanks to all of you who've stuck with me this far. I hope you're enjoying the ride._


	27. Blame: Liara

**Blame: Liara**

Is this what the blood rage is like? This urge to—to just _destroy?_ To ruin everything within easy reach before seeking out more distant targets to lay waste to? To want to kill everyone foolish enough to come near you, regardless of whether they are friend or foe? To think that if the galaxy is razed to the ground, perhaps the pain will finally subside?

Liara is fairly certain that her biotics are strong enough to rip out a section of the _Normandy's_ hull. The thought is disturbingly satisfying. She would like to cause as much pain as she is feeling right now.

She would like the rest of the galaxy to share in her pain.

She would like to go back to a time before everything was shattered: her homeworld, her confidence, her family, her professional self-respect, her ability to smile, her admiration of the Protheans….

Protheans. Prothean. Javik. She remembers his scornful words back in the Temple of Athame. He had enjoyed her distress. He had been amused by her anguish. She remembers his gloating expression on the shuttle ride back to the _Normandy_.

It would be much easier to tear apart one Prothean than it would be to tear apart the ship. Killing Javik would also be less likely to upset Shepard.

No. Liara is not an animal. She will not simply murder Javik in cold blood. She will go talk to him. She will try to understand. Only if he mocks her suffering will she finish what the Reapers started fifty thousand years ago.

**…**

"You wanted to know more about your history, asari. Now you do."

"I have a name!" she yells at him. "It's Liara T'Soni! And I would appreciate your using it from now on!" It is the final straw. Liara feels her biotics flare. She will kill him. For his scorn, for his people's meddling, for his—for his _cruelty_. How can any sentient being be so cruel? To everyone he encounters?

"Hey! Settle down!" Liara whirls when a hand descends on her shoulder, prepared for a fight. Hoping for a fight. Instead, all she finds is Shepard, trying to glare, but wincing instead. The wound on her cheek has been neatly stitched.

"My home was just destroyed, and all he can do is gloat!"

The Prothean crosses his arms. "The loss of one world is nothing, when compared to the loss of the galaxy!"

"Shut up, both of you!" In a gentler voice, Shepard says, "Liara, you may not like the truth, but you can't blame Javik for it. And you know I won't let you kill him over it." The last words are spoken very quietly, meant for Liara's hearing only.

"Besides—" Javik begins to speak, but the commander cuts him off.

"Being right is no excuse to be spiteful. You should be ashamed of yourself. If you thought honor was worth anything, you _would_ be ashamed of yourself."

"If the Protheans had any honor, they would have stopped this!" Liara cannot help herself.

Somehow, Javik understands what she means. "We believed you would stop it." The Reapers. The violence. The pain.

Liara lets go of a little bit of her anger, and the glow of her biotics fades. Shepard glances hopefully at her.

"Long ago we saw the potential in your people. Even then, it was obvious. The wisdom. The patience." If it did not sound as though speaking the words was causing Javik physical pain, Liara would not believe what she was hearing.

"You were the best hope for this cycle. What does it matter if you were… guided, when necessary? You're still alive, aren't you? Your world may have fallen, but as long as even one asari is left standing, the fight isn't over."

He steps closer to her, and Liara wonders if his words have been a ruse to pacify her so that he can get close enough to attack. She feels the prickle of her biotcs under her skin.

"Despair is the enemy's greatest weapon," Javik says, fixing his eyes on Liara. "Do not let them wield it… Liara T'Soni."

To her astonishment, Liara finds her agitation decreasing. What Javik has said is actually comforting. It seems a good idea to leave now, before the Prothean remembers himself and ruins the moment.

**…**

As soon as she reaches her cabin, tears start to course down Liara's face. It is just as well. She has been holding them in for too long. She makes her way to her bed, buries her face in a pillow and sobs out her frustration and agony.

After a few minutes' indulgence however, she has to do something. She has to act. She has to look through all her files, all her information, all her research. She has to figure out why her mother kept the truth from her. She has to figure out what she did wrong. She has to figure out exactly how she failed her people. And then she has to figure out how to help them.

"Did I just… assume that the asari would be ready?" she wonders quietly. "That the Council would protect them? Or was I so busy with the Crucible and the Catalyst that I ignored my own people?" She hurls a datapad with information on the Crucible across the room in a fit of self-disgust.

"You'd never do that." Shepard must have been carrying her sweatshirt in her hand. It is on the floor now, and the commander holds the datapad in her hands. She crosses the room and stands at the foot of the bed. Liara wonders if she should have set the locks for absolute privacy.

"They're dying by the millions!" Liara reminds her friend. "I told those people on Thessia we'd save them!"

Shepard will not meet Liara's eyes.

"How many asari died because I demanded their help?" She knows the number is too high for her to count.

Shepard climbs onto the bed, settling near Liara. "None," she says insistently, sitting on her feet. She is close enough to reach, close enough to cling to and sob, but she does not try to touch Liara. Liara does not try to touch Shepard, either.

"You know that is not true."

"The hell I don't. You've been warning the whole damn galaxy for years. None of this is your fault. _None of it_."

When Liara shakes her head, Shepard finally stretches a hand towards her. Both hands. She places her palms on Liara's cheeks, and begins brushing the tears away with her thumbs. Her touch is gentle, almost as if she is afraid that too much pressure will break Liara apart. The skin on her hands is very soft. It is too young for an adult human, a reminder of the fact that the galaxy almost lost its champion two years ago.

For as long as Liara keeps crying, Shepard is there to keep the tears from drying on her face. After a moment's hesitation, she even wipes under Liara's nose. The gesture is horrendously embarrassing, and unbelievably comforting. Poor Shepard is always having to take care of Liara. She feels grateful and guilty and grubby, like an infant.

Eventually, Liara realizes that her tears have ended. Shepard is speaking. "Please, don't cry anymore," she says. "I hate it when you cry."

Liara tilts her head up and looks directly at the commander. Shepard's gaze is open and honest, full of worry and sympathy, but it is her eyes that capture Liara's attention. Her eyes aren't simple blue like an asari's. They're an exotic color, halfway between green and brown. She's very beautiful. Everything about Shepard is beautiful, from her kindness to her eyes.

Suddenly, those eyes widen and Shepard freezes. "Oh, shit," she whispers, yanking her hands away from Liara's face. She scrambles to the edge of the bed.

"What's wrong?" Liara asks.

"Nothing. I just—I—Hackett! I was supposed to contact Hackett when we had information on the Catalyst, but with everything that happened, I forgot, and I've got to talk to him. Now. That is, well, he's the Alliance's top officer, you know, so he's got to be informed when something major like this happens, and it's my responsibility to keep him up to date—I shouldn't have been wasting time—Not that this was a waste of time, but…. Maybe he can put together some kind of evacuation plan. If I get the news to him quickly enough, he might be able to do something to get people off of Thessia, or maybe, I don't know, but he'll have ideas; he has to have ideas." Shepard quits the room so quickly that she forgets to retrieve her sweatshirt from the floor.

Somewhat dazed by how rapidly the commander departed, Liara walks across the cabin and picks up the garment. She holds it, running a hand absently over the red stripe on the right sleeve. "Evacuation plan," she murmurs. An idea falls into place.

"Helping the refugees." She drapes the sweatshirt over an unused monitor. "That is something I can do." It is something she owes her people.


	28. Aftershock: Shepard

**Aftershock: Shepard**

Dr. Chakwas finishes stitching the cut on Shepard's cheek closed. "Go wash up, Commander," she orders.

"But I have to—"

"No. You don't. Not right now, in any event. If you don't keep your face clean, it will fester, and I'll have to excise the majority of your cheek and replace it with cybernetics, like we did with Garrus. Argue with me again, and you won't even get _that_. I'll replace any rotten tissue with a smiley-faced bandage."

Shepard can't tell if the doctor is serious, but it's not a chance she's willing to take. The _Normandy_ only needs one Garrus.

(Not to mention that Shepard is unreasonably vain for someone who's only about a seven point five on her good days. Maybe she's an eight, but that's probably wishful thinking.)

She showers, puts on a fresh set of fatigues, and ties up her hair. She puts on her sweatshirt for comfort and courage. Then she stands in front of the elevator and stares at it, trying to work up the nerve to go down to the war room and let the rest of the galaxy know how badly she's failed this time.

The elevator beeps. Shepard stands back. Why would anyone be coming to check on her? It's Liara who needs looking after. She's the one who lost her home because Shepard wasn't good enough to stop one goddamn assassin.

Maybe it's Traynor with a message. Or Garrus with lots of alcohol. Or Tali with a magical piece of quarian tech they can use instead of the Catalyst.

The doors open. It's Kaidan.

For a moment, nothing happens. Then he opens his arms, and in no time, Shepard is holding onto him and crying.

"Hey," he murmurs in his husky, soothing voice. "You're okay. We'll figure things out." He puts one hand between her shoulder blades, one on her lower back. He rubs a finger up and down the back of her neck, pulling stress and fear out of her with each stroke.

He smells so good. He smells reassuring, strong, and confident. He _is_ reassuring, strong, and confident. A rock. Shepard's rock. All she wants to do is lean against Kaidan and sob. Someone else can come up with a plan.

His lips press against the top of her head, and she sighs. He lets go of Shepard and she looks up at him, curious. Does he think she's done? There is a whole universe of tears left to cry.

When their eyes meet, Kaidan smiles a little and kisses Shepard on the forehead. Her shoulders roll forward and she presses against him. He kisses her tears away.

It would be so easy just to lie to Kaidan. She wouldn't even have to say anything. She could let him keep thinking that her feelings are as deep as his are. Maybe someday they would be. Maybe not. Maybe they won't live long enough to reach 'someday.' She doesn't want Kaidan to die thinking…

She kisses him, loving the feel of it, the way every part of their bodies fits together so well. Then she makes herself step away.

"You know I'm never going to marry you. I'll probably never get married."

"I don't remember asking you to marry me," he snorts, leaning forward and kissing her again.

Before Shepard can push him away and explain what she means, EDI interrupts. "My apologies for the interruption, Commander, but Liara has gone to speak with Javik in his quarters, and my sensors indicate that both are experiencing extreme stress at the moment. It might be advisable to intervene before permanent damage is done to one, or both of them."

The excuse to leave is very welcome. "Duty calls," Shepard yelps, moving towards the elevator.

"Do you want my help? It might be a good idea to have a biotic on your side in case things get—"

"No, no. I'll be fine. It'll be fine. I'll handle it. Thanks." As the doors slide shut, she pretends not to hear Kaidan ask if she wants him to wait for her.

**…**

When she touches Liara's shoulder, the asari's biotics _bite_ Shepard. That's not a very scientific explanation, but it's the only way she can think to describe the sudden sensation of pain that burns across her palm. Damn, it hurts! She frowns. She's touched other biotics when they were manipulating dark energy, and this has never happened before.

Javik is yelling. Liara is yelling. Liara never yells.

Shepard swallows the urge to turn the _Normandy_ around and try liberating Thessia single-handedly. Instead, she yells at everyone. Because yelling always fixes everything. Yeah, right.

(_She's_ the one who does the yelling. It's a perk of command.)

Javik and Liara yell at each other some more. Then, out of nowhere, the Prothean is reassuring Liara. He's speaking calmly to her. He's calling her by her actual name. He's being kind. Shepard watches in astonishment as Liara's anger falls away to reveal her sorrow. Before Shepard can figure out what exactly she has been witness to, the asari is gone.

"I—" Shepard stares at Javik. "Did you mean any of that?"

"She believes it," he responds. "So she will keep fighting."

"That's not what I asked."

"What does it matter?"

How can it not matter? "Liara… to say she's been a good friend to me doesn't even begin to explain it. You have no idea of what she's done, what she's gone through for my sake. Believe me, it matters."

The Prothean begins to walk away. "Then I will tell you what you want to hear—"

"I'd rather have the truth."

"—I meant what I said."

Shepard glares at him. She doesn't need to be coddled. She opens her mouth to tell the arrogant ancient as much, but instead she says, "Well, regardless, that was kind of you. Unexpected, but kind. Thank you."

She can see his shoulders stiffen at her words, so she doesn't linger long enough to give him the chance to make her regret them. Still, whatever happens between them, Shepard will owe Javik a debt for this kindness.

**…**

Garrus has more alcohol than anyone else on the _Normandy_. She could use a drink. When she reaches the main battery though, the turian is already deep in conversation with Tali.

"I've never seen Liara like this," the quarian says.

"I know. Maybe you should go talk to her."

"Me? Are you kidding? My people just got back our homeworld. I'm the last person she's going to want to—"

"I'll talk to her," Shepard says. "But I want a bottle of levo-friendly _anything _waiting for me when I'm done."

"You've got it, Shepard," Garrus promises.

"Alcoholic levo-friendly anything," she clarifies.

The turian laughs. They've been friends for too long.

**…**

Shepard is in the process of tying her sweatshirt around her waist when she opens the doors to Liara's cabin. She can hear the asari yelling at herself for abandoning Thessia. A datapad comes flying towards Shepard. Liara must still be angry.

Shepard drops the sweatshirt. She catches the datapad and brings it back to the asari. "You'd never do that," she reminds Liara. Liara never gives up on anything. On anyone.

Liara is curled on her bed, keeping herself more or less upright by leaning on her left hand. She keeps slumping, as though the weight of her misery is too much to bear. "People are dying by the millions! I told those people we'd save them!"

Not we. Even miserable and angry as she is, Liara always thinks too highly of Shepard to lay blame squarely where it belongs. They both know the failure is Shepard's.

She can't think of anything to say. She can't even bring herself to look Liara in the eye. Everything that has happened is Shepard's fault. She should have known Cerberus would be there. She should have been prepared. She should have stopped them. She should have saved Thessia. At the very least, she should have protected the data on the Catalyst for the allied forces.

"How many asari died because I demanded their help?" Liara agonizes.

This is a question Shepard can answer. "_None_," she promises, kneeling on the bed next to her friend. It isn't Liara's fault that Shepard failed.

"You know that is not true!"

"The hell I don't. You've been warning the whole damn galaxy for years. None of this is your fault. _None of it_." If anything, Liara is the only reason anyone is still alive. She's the one who brought Shepard back to fight the Reapers. She's the one who gave the galaxy another chance. Who gave Shepard another chance.

"No," Liara breathes the word while shaking her head.

Oh, Shepard can't stand to see Liara cry. She moves to pull down her sleeves before remembering that her sweatshirt is on the ground. It doesn't matter. She frames Liara's face with her hands and focuses on getting rid of the tears.

"I'm sorry. I promised that I'd get what we needed to keep Thessia safe, and I failed. I'll make it up to you, I will. Don't cry." Liara's cheeks are the perfect shape. Shepard's thumbs trace the asari's cheekbones from the bridge of her nose to the side of her face over and over, in what she hopes is a comforting gesture as she wipes away all the tears.

"Don't cry, Liara. I'll fix it. I'll figure out a way to fix it, I promise, but you have to stop crying." Her friend sniffs, and Shepard runs a finger under Liara's nose without even thinking about what she is doing. She actually does it twice before wiping her hands clean on her shirt. For some reason, her mind fixates on how smooth the top of Liara's upper lip felt against her finger. It's a contrast to the slightly pebbled texture of her skin.

Today has been so hard for everyone. "Please don't cry anymore," Shepard begs. She's still trying to calm Liara down. Even though the asari hasn't been crying for a while, actually. Shepard keeps stroking her face. She just wants to see Liara smile again. She'll be able to get back to fighting if Liara smiles. "I hate it when you cry," Shepard confesses.

At those words, Liara looks up.

Shepard doesn't look away. Shepard can't breathe. There's no air in her lungs, and no bottom to her stomach. What is wrong with her? There has to be something wrong. She feels sick, and can't think of why. She stares at Liara, like the asari knows the answer. Liara does know everything. Except for her tendency to give herself too little credit and Shepard too much, Liara is pretty much perfect.

Liara is pretty much perfect.

Liara is pretty.

Liara is perfect.

Liara.

_Liara._

"Oh, shit."


	29. Fighting: Shepard

**Fighting: Shepard**

No one ever warned Shepard that dreams are actually worse than nightmares. At least in nightmares, she knows that her mind is trying to torture her. Dreams… Shepard doesn't know what to do with dreams. Especially not dreams like these ones. Dreams where she's on Liara's bed, wiping the tears off of her friend's face, and Liara looks up at her with Alliance-blue eyes full of trust and misery and hope, and Shepard realizes that she barely has to move at all to press her lips to the asari's, and instead of retreating so she can regroup and clear her head before she ruins everything, Shepard leans down to kiss Liara and Liara kisses her back, and it doesn't matter that they're both women or that Kaidan is waiting for Shepard in the loft or that even if they don't both die tomorrow, Shepard's going to die long before Liara or that someday she'll probably stop feeling like this, and that will hurt Liara—none of that matters, because in the dreams Shepard finally understands what deep feelings are, and she understands how you could think of someone else while you're bleeding out in a cave full of rachni or a monastery full of banshees or a colony full of Collectors, except that she doesn't, not really, because how could anyone feel this way about someone who isn't Liara?

Shepard has started drinking coffee. Shepard has started drinking lots of coffee. Shepard is highly appreciative of coffee. Shepard wonders if there's a way to just inject coffee into her bloodstream. Shepard thinks coffee is perf—Shepard thinks that coffee has a lot of admirable qualities. It keeps her awake and makes her grumpy, and she's spending way too much time in the bathroom, and she's fighting with everyone, but that's all right because anything is better than—than _whatever_ this is.

(Some of the fights were necessary. Like the one with Joker, where the pilot tried to cheer Shepard up, and ended up reminding the commander how insignificant her own 'problems' are now that she knows Big Shepard is safe. Or the one with Kaidan, that the poor man didn't realize was a fight until after Shepard had brought up Horizon for the second time, but by then everything was just about over.)

**…**

What she really needs is a mission. There has to be some dark corner of the galaxy in need of a soldier. Some place with lots of Reaper creatures or Cerberus minions that need to die, die, die. She needs to keep busy. She needs to stay so exhausted that there's no room in her mind for thoughts.

Shepard spends a lot of time in the shuttle bay with Vega. She tells him about the climb on Thessia, and explains that she needs stronger arms in case something like that happens again. He promises that if she isn't able to do fifty weighted pull-ups without difficulty by the time he has finished training her, she can force him to bunk with Javik. The idea of that particular odd couple trying to peacefully coexist would normally be hilarious. But thinking about that means thinking about Javik, which means thinking about Protheans, which means thinking about Liara.

Goddess of oceans, Shepard can't even think about Liara anymore without feeling sick to her stomach. Not the Grunt-just-sacrificed-himself-so-we-could-rescue-the-Rachni-queen kind of sick, either. The jumping-off-a-bridge-into-the-Presidium-lake kind. People aren't supposed to cause those kinds of feelings. Especially not female people.

(Oh, don't start with how the asari are mono-gendered. Shepard knows female when she sees it. Nothing is going to convince her that Liara has the same parts as everyone else the commander has ever—_NO._ Shepard is not thinking about any kind of parts that Liara might or might not have.)

Shepard wants to die.

**…**

Garrus has cut her off. He is the worst friend she has ever had, and Shepard tells him that.

"You have been… unusually surly, these past few days," the turian comments.

"Tell you what. If you come with me to the lounge and unlock the bar, I'll magically transform into someone more fun." Why did Shepard let Garrus take charge of the ship's alcohol rations in the first place? She vaguely remembers her decision being based on his ability to be responsible. Well, look at how well _that_ turned out. "Damn it, Vakarian, stop standing between me and alcohol. We are clearly meant to be together." She feints to the left, and lunges to the right, trying to get at the pocket where he keeps the passkey.

Years of training and experience in the turian military enable Garrus to evade her attack. He puts one hand on Shepard's forehead and holds her at arm's length while her shorter arms swipe fruitlessly at the empty air between them.

When she finally gives up, he asks if she wants to talk about whatever is bothering her.

"Can we talk about it over a drink?"

"No."

"Then no. Also, I hate you."

**…**

All right, maybe Garrus isn't the worst thing to ever happen to sentient life. Even if he won't let Shepard drink anymore, he has still figured out a way for her to take her mind off of—off of anything that might be driving her crazy.

Shepard loves her own body. She loves the nicks and dents that being a soldier have left on her skin. She loves the feel of burning exhaustion. She loves the way her muscles know more than her mind. She loves the way sweat drips off the point of her chin and the end of her nose. She loves the new, tender place on her cheek that is going to fade to a thin white scar. She loves the sweep of her ponytail against the back of her neck. She even loves the way she can feel the mechanical pieces of herself if she closes her eyes and stays still and quiet.

Shepard loves the way her body can face all comers and hold its own without betraying her.

Garrus and Vega got Cortez's permission to set up an impromptu boxing ring in the shuttle bay. The _Normandy_ is on its way back to the Citadel. It's been days since there was a mission or a flight from the Reapers. Everyone is on edge. Garrus finally declared that he 'couldn't put up with human ineptitude anymore,' and that the _Normandy's_ crew was going to relieve stress the way turian military units did.

(The Alliance crew had been apprehensive about the idea at first, until Shepard explained that it meant they could all have the chance to go a few rounds in the ring with anyone who'd been irritating them. The number of heads that turned in Javik's direction when she said that had actually been frightening. Of course, the Prothean had had a scathing comment about 'knowing the proper enemy' and 'undisciplined violence among primitive races,' but he'd ended up fighting anyway, and hadn't done too badly for someone who relied heavily on biotics.)

Shepard is glorying in her undefeated status. She's taken some hits, mostly from Kaidan, who she felt deserved to land a few after the way she's treated him, but not even her guilt can keep her from doing this. From winning. She was born to fight. After she picks him up off the canvas, Javik calls her an avatar of victory.

"Who's next?" she crows. "I can take anyone but EDI!"

"Only because she's the only one on the ship whose head is harder than yours!" someone taunts. Shepard grins.

"Cowards!" she shoots back, leaning over the ropes in the direction of the voice. "C'mon, don't tell me I've run out of marines to fight already! I didn't know this was an asari tea party!"

"Someone less genial than me might find your choice of imagery offensive," a voice says quietly.

Liara has stepped into the ring. Shepard can feel the smile slip off her face. Her stomach lurches. She doesn't want to fight anymore. She wants to run.

Whoever is supervising now says something about clean fighting. Shepard feels angry. How can Liara be fighting fair when she's doing _this_ to Shepard?

When they're allowed to start, Shepard dodges Liara's first few punches. The asari is even worse at this than Traynor is. Without biotics, she's really helpless, isn't she?

It would be easy to just keep dodging and landing light punches until they call the match in Shepard's favor. But that's not what she wants. She wants to back Liara into a corner and force her to curl up and hide her face because there's no way to escape the commander's relentless attack. She wants to make Liara hurt for the way the asari is making her feel. She wants revenge.

She blocks a blow to gauge the force of Liara's arm. Weak. Weak and stupid and unfair and confusing and just—just _wrong_. Shepard should end this right now. She should put a stop to this whole embarrassing situation.

The opening is right there. Easy. She steps under Liara's swing. Her fist connects with Liara's jaw.

It might be the hardest punch Shepard has thrown all day. No, not 'might be.' It is.


	30. Foolish: Liara

**Foolish: Liara**

It is not until Tali contacts her via the ship's comm system to ask whether Liara is sick that she realizes that she has stayed in her cabin since the _Normandy_ left the Athena Nebula. Although she is not hiding, she has been consumed by her desire to help asari refugees. Liara wonders if she has missed anything important these past few days, but Tali assures her that there is no significant news. According to EDI, Samantha has some ideas about locating Kai Leng, but the extrapolation of data is particularly intricate and will take time. The _Normandy _has been seeking out possible resources and chasing rumors of survivors located on Reaper-occupied worlds, but supplies are beginning to run low. They will be returning to the Citadel soon.

Poor Shepard. She must be ready to tear out a bulkhead. The commander is not very good at sitting idle.

The thought of Shepard makes Liara turn from the main bank of monitors. She looks at the low couch near the window. Shepard's sweatshirt is there, where Liara left it the last time she woke up. Since the tragedy of Thessia haunts her nightmares, the only sleep she has indulged in has been fitful naps on her couch, using Shepard's forgotten garment as a blanket. It is almost as comforting as the human herself.

The time has come to return the sweatshirt. It does not belong to Liara. It is Shepard's favorite article of clothing. Shepard needs comfort as much as the asari does.

Still, the idea of merely delivering the sweatshirt back to Shepard is unsatisfying. Liara thinks of all the times she has been tricked or fooled by Shepard, has had her notes or personal belongings rearranged or absconded with as a joke. She wonders if there is a way to use Shepard's forgotten shirt to her advantage.

Liara has no illusions about herself. She is not a jester. She will need help. Garrus would be the most obvious person to rely on, but she is not entirely confident that he would be able to resist setting up something elaborate to make both Shepard _and_ Liara end up the butt of his own joke. Tali does not appreciate what she terms 'dangerous nonsense that has no place on a ship.' Steve is too level-headed. Much of Joker's humor is inappropriate. James seems to focus his efforts on making Shepard blush, which is… not what Liara wants to do. Samantha is too timid. Kaidan takes his responsibilities as _Normandy's_ executive officer too seriously. Javik thinks comedy should be punishable by death.

Liara lifts the security restrictions that she has put into place in her cabin. "EDI," she says, looking at the ceiling, "I was wondering if you had a moment to assist me…."

**…**

When Shepard opens the door to her cabin, Liara cannot keep from grinning. Although she frequently watches other people grin, the asari almost never assumes that expression herself. But EDI's idea to wear Shepard's sweatshirt and imitate the commander to her face is so funny that Liara has to grin.

She turns from where she is sitting at the human's desk, prepared to start talking about the inconvenience of Reaper invasions, her hatred of politicians, and her predilection for high-impact weaponry. EDI predicted that there was an eighty-six point three percent chance that Shepard would join in on the joke by imitating Liara. The AI and the asari disagreed as to whether the commander would begin by commenting about the importance of information brokering, or about the extended asari lifespan. Liara is certain that she was correct, and wants to see her prediction confirmed.

(She remembers that when Shepard comforted her after Thessia, the woman said that she hates to see Liara cry. Just as Shepard hates to see Liara cry, Liara loves to see Shepard laugh.)

There is no chance to joke. Something in Shepard's face stops Liara.

"What are you doing here?" the commander asks. Her voice sounds strained.

"I—" Suddenly the entire scheme seems very foolish. Liara stands and unzips the sweatshirt. "I am returning—You forgot this in my cabin." She extends the garment to Shepard.

The human bites her lip and takes a step away. "You can just put it on the desk." She takes another step, and the door to her bathroom slides open.

Liara can feel herself blushing. "Please accept my apologies, Shepard. I had thought to play a joke on you, to exact a bit of revenge for all the times you and Garrus have—"

"Sorry," Shepard interrupts, "I just really need to—" She ducks into the bathroom and lets the door slide shut. The sound of a lock falling into place echoes through the room.

Goddess, this is embarrassing. Liara hastily folds the sweatshirt, places it on Shepard's desk, and leaves the cabin.

**…**

Samantha looks so miserable. "This is turning out to be a lot harder than I thought it would be," she admits.

Liara and the communications specialist are sitting at the conference table outside of the war room. Papers and datapads blanket the table, most of them covered in mathematical equations. After a few hours, it became clear to them both that Liara was present more for her knowledge of Cerberus and moral support than for any sort of constructive effort she could contribute to the search for Kai Leng.

"Perhaps it is time for us to take a break?" the asari offers. "I have some tea I have been saving, and we could play chess…."

"I think I'd enjoy that." Samantha stands and smiles at Liara. "Nothing reinvigorates me like making another grown woman cry."

"Shepard cried when you defeated her at chess? I had no idea she was so sentimental."

The human laughs. "You turned that around quite neatly, didn't you?" They cross through the security check one at a time.

"Are you two heading down to the turian's 'stress-relief' session?" Private Campbell asks.

"What are you talking about, Sarah?" Samantha asks.

"Vakarian," Private Westmoreland explains. "He and Vega set up fights down in the shuttle bay." She shakes her head. "I can't believe the commander let them—"

"Are you kidding? Shepard's probably down there giving anyone who looks at her funny a good old-fashioned N7 ass-kicking!" Private Campbell is alarmingly enthusiastic. "If the Reapers were normal-sized, the commander would have beaten them into submission ages ago, and we'd already be back on Earth celebrating."

"Or rebuilding," Private Westmoreland says.

"Oh, you're such a downer, Beth." Private Campbell opens the door to the CIC and waves them on their way.

"What do you think?" Samantha asks as they walk to the elevator. "Do you want to watch the commander thrash all her uppity crewmembers?"

Liara laughs. "You go. I will follow in a little while."

"You're not coming?"

Liara gestures to her lab coat. "Not dressed like this. Shepard is one of the most infuriating people I know. Turian stress-relief—it would be worth being embarrassed in front of the rest of the crew for an opportunity to punch her in the nose just once."

**…**

Liara is… on the floor? How did she get here? Did she trip? She turns her head left and right, seeking out whatever might have caused her to fall. There is nothing to find. She looks up.

There is a taste of blood in her mouth.

Oh. Liara remembers; they were sparring. Of course the commander knocked her flat on her back. The human is too strong for Liara's good. What was she thinking, to try and fight Shepard?

Shepard stands over her, fists clenched. Her chest is heaving slightly, although Liara is sure that their fight did not last long enough for the soldier to be breathing hard. She can feel her gaze lingering inappropriately. Shepard is not wearing a shirt, and the planes of her abdomen shine with sweat. The stitches on her cheek stand out against her flushed skin. Blood trickles from a scrape on the human's forehead. Altogether, the sight of Shepard at this moment is….

Perhaps Aethyta was right about being a quarter krogan.

She smiles ruefully up at the commander, wincing when the expression pulls at the place where fist met face. She waits for Shepard to smile back and offer her a hand up. She imagines Shepard making a joke about how Liara needs to stay alive because Shepard does not want to have to assume the role of Shadow Broker. She readies herself to brush away Shepard's apology. Shepard will apologize, even though she was supposed to hit Liara the way she did.

The commander stares down at Liara. Without saying anything, she ducks under the ropes and makes her way to the elevator.

**…**

Shepard is not mercurial. She has a seemingly endless supply of good humor, and a child's optimistic view of the galaxy. Like a child, she is frequently frustrated, impatient, or petulant, but those moods never last long, and there is always an undercurrent of mirth to her irritation. Her contentment is practically a constant.

Liara can count the times she has seen something upset the commander on one hand. She cannot remember ever seeing Shepard sustain her anger for more than a few minutes. Usually she burns through the emotion quickly.

Not this time. Liara knows Shepard too well to doubt that, for some reason, Shepard is angry with her. Not that even a complete stranger would have doubts at this point. The proof of their one-sided argument is on the asari's face.

Liara leans over the sink in the miniscule bathroom of her cabin, studying herself in the mirror. Gingerly, she touches the dark bruise that spreads over her chin and cheek. It hurts, but not as much as the knowledge that she has done something to upset Shepard to this degree.

When the commander left the shuttle bay, Liara's first instinct had been to follow her and try to determine what was wrong. Kaidan had stopped her.

"I think she needs some time alone," he said tightly, his hand wrapped around Liara's bicep. "She's been—I don't know, but she hasn't been herself—" The man sighed and let go of Liara. He ran his hand through his hair. "Or maybe she's being herself for the first time, finally. I don't know. Guess I never did.

"My point is; Shepard needs to figure some things out. She can't do that if we all hover over her." He'd given Liara a small smile. "Knowing her, she'll spend half of her shore leave at some bar, and be back to normal before we ship out."

Shaking her head, Liara turns away from her reflection and dresses. Regardless of Shepard's anger, there is always a need for the Shadow Broker. She has work to do.

When she exits the bathroom, her eyes are drawn to something bright red. It looks out of place among the subdued tones of her cabin.

Shepard's sweatshirt is laid out on Liara's bed as though inviting her to wear it. Experience warns her that this is a trap, but Liara examines the garment anyway. Tucked into the hood is a note. Humans are uniquely stubborn in that they continue to insist on using actual paper for many of their communications. Liara scans the alien writing with her omni-tool and runs it through a translating program.

_It looks better on you anyway._


	31. Conversations: Liara

**Conversations: Liara**

Just when Liara is beginning to suspect that Shepard has taken to travelling through the _Normandy's _air ducts so as to avoid encountering crewmembers, there she is, walking through the mess with a mug of coffee. EDI is with her, of course. The AI is the only person the commander has spoken to for over a day. Although Garrus, Tali, Engineer Adams, Samantha, Liara, and even Joker have tried to convince EDI to tell them why Shepard has been hiding and whether the woman is all right, EDI has been unusually circumspect.

Liara has been wearing Shepard's sweatshirt while she sleeps. It is childish and superstitious, but she is convinced that the shirt has been responsible for warding away nightmares. The garment is as soft as it looks. It is comforting. It smells like standard issue Alliance soap, and the smoke of spent heat sinks. It smells like safety. It smells like Shepard. Wearing the sweatshirt is like sleeping with the galaxy's greatest protector. Not—not _sleeping with_, not like that! It's… it's like letting Shepard wipe away her tears.

She wants to say thank you to Shepard. She wants to tell Shepard that she forgives her for the punch. She wants to tell Shepard that she knows about the email she received from Kai Leng, that she knows how much stress the commander is under, and that she knows the sweatshirt was meant to be an apology.

At this point, she will settle for catching the human's eye.

"Shepard," she calls as she approaches.

Whether it is surprise, luck, the old habits of politeness, or just the ties of friendship, Shepard glances up at the sound of her name.

The commander looks exhausted. The dark smudges under her eyes are more pronounced than Liara has ever seen them. They resemble bruises rather than marks of fatigue. For once her posture is not perfect. She walks with her shoulders rolled forwards, as though she is carrying something heavy. The weight of the trillions of lives she is expected to safeguard.

Liara doesn't know how to help. She settles for saying, "Shepard," again, quietly.

When their eyes meet, Shepard looks so sad that she is unrecognizable. Her left hand stretches towards the asari, towards her face. Towards the fading bruise on her chin and cheek. Before the human can even raise her hand to the level of Liara's shoulder, she jerks it back. She turns away and sighs. Her shoulders pull tight.

"I'm sorry."

Liara starts to tell her that there is no need to apologize. She knows that Shepard is remorseful. She knows Shepard. She wants Shepard to feel better, to come back, to sit in the mess with her and make loud jokes that Liara won't quite find humorous. She wants her friend back.

Before she can even begin to speak, Shepard has moved on.

**…**

When her father sees the last hint of Liara's bruise, Liara does not have the heart to inform her that it was the result of a friendly sparring match. Instead, she recounts a story about the last group of Cerberus insurgents she fought with Shepard, and implies that the damage to her face must have occurred sometime during that skirmish.

"That's my girl," Aethyta says proudly. She pours Liara a glass of Ryncol, on the house, and laughs when the younger asari chokes at the taste.

The matriarch finishes the drink herself. "Shepard drinks this with no trouble," she says.

"Really?" Liara had no idea. She supposes that she should be grateful that the human's insistence that she try new types of alcohol has so far only encompassed beer and ale.

"Really," her father nods. "I was the first one to serve it to her, back on Illium. You never forget a customer who gives you license to try to break her liver. She told me that she was trying to get over a relationship, but so far no bartender had been able to help her find a drink that would make her forget." Aethyta runs a rag over the top of the bar. "We went through the whole spectrum of drinks before we found something to knock her out. I tell you, kiddo, she was lucky she found me. Most people would be too nervous about liability for wrongful death to serve Ryncol to a human."

"Yes," Liara says dryly. "How fortunate that you were there."

"Hey, everything worked out fine, didn't it? Your girlfriend's got a quad."

"She is not—"

"Oh, come on! We're seeing the end of the galaxy, and you two are still pretending that you're 'just friends?' I'm old, Liara, not blind. Not yet, anyway. I've seen the way you two look at each other, and I'm surprised your panties haven't caught fire yet."

She covers her face with a hand. This is not a conversation she wants to have with anyone, let alone her father.

"Fine. Let's pretend you don't want to toss Shepard down on the bed, peel her out of her uniform, and embrace eternity so hard that you tear a new hole in her space-time continuum."

"I—I don't—Even if—She's not—We—Why do you always have to make everything sound so tawdry?"

The expression on Aethyta's face would seem to indicate that despite everything, she harbors doubts as to whether she actually fathered Liara. "If it's all civilized," she says, speaking slowly and with exaggerated calmness, as though Liara is either a very young or a very dim-witted child, "you're not doing it right."

"Can we please talk about anything else?"

They do talk, about a number of things, including how 'the old girls I sent your way' are doing. Conversations with her father are slowly becoming less trying and more enjoyable. Liara's relationship with her one remaining parent is just another thing she owes to Shepard but will never admit to. Shepard's ego is enough of a problem.

They both avoid discussing Thessia.

**…**

Liara decides to walk through a residential neighborhood on the Presidium before returning to the _Normandy_. She enjoys the relative normalcy of this place. It gives her hope. When she is here, she believes that life will go on. Although it is still early in the evening, the streets here are quiet, almost deserted. Liara is able to lose herself in unimportant thoughts as she walks aimlessly.

Everything is peaceful until someone grabs her shoulder. Startled, Liara whirls and hurls a wad of dark energy towards her attacker.

The dark-haired human glows with a biotic corona, and redirects the energy. Rather than throwing her halfway down the avenue, it travels upwards and dissipates harmlessly. The woman raises an eyebrow. It is her only reaction to Liara's aggression. "Expecting an attack, Dr. T'Soni?" she asks.

"It never hurts to be cautious," the asari replies. "For all I knew, you could have been a Cerberus agent looking to assassinate me."

Miranda Lawson gives a slight smile. "That does sound like something people would expect of me. I am a dangerous terrorist, after all."

"Shepard has made sure that everyone who matters knows that you no longer work for Cerberus," Liara assures her. "Honestly, considering that you have left that organization, it seems more likely that Cerberus would try to assassinate you than it would try to assassinate me."

"You give yourself too little credit. The Illusive Man certainly wants you dead. It's just difficult to get to you, given that you travel with Shepard."

"Oh, good?"

"It is an odd compliment, I suppose." Miranda hesitates. "Dr. T'Soni—Liara, I need a favor."

"What is it? Are you in trouble? A while ago Shepard mentioned—"

"I'm not in trouble. I just need to talk to the commander. I sent her an email, asking her to meet me in a safehouse I have here, but she hasn't responded. She probably hasn't read it yet, knowing her. Normally, I'd wait, but if I stay in one place for too long…."

"You want me to let you aboard the _Normandy_," Liara says.

"That's the long and the short of it, yes."

Absently, Liara touches the bruise on her face. "Shepard has been… reclusive lately. She's not leaving her cabin, and she's not letting anyone in to talk to her. Except for EDI."

Miranda assumes a stubborn expression. "I have to talk to her. If you get me aboard, I'll get her to talk to me."

Liara considers. "You're not going to upset her, are you? She already feels guilty over Thessia, and—"

"I heard about Thessia. My condolences."

"Thank you. I just… Shepard won't talk to anyone. If you can get through to her, Ms. Lawson, please, just, try to help her?"

"I owe Shepard a great deal," Miranda reminds Liara. "If I can help her, I will."


	32. Self: Shepard

**Self: Shepard**

There's no way to take the mirror in her bathroom off the wall. Breaking it won't do any good either. Little pieces of glass are still enough to show a reflection. In desperation, Shepard tells Ensign Copeland that she wants to touch up her armor. He gives her a jar of paint. As soon as she gets back to her cabin, she paints over the mirror.

She can't stand to look at herself.

Shepard doesn't even know who she is anymore. She wants to go back to the time when her biggest worry was whether she was organic or not. That kind of worrying was much better than this. At least the machine was more or less identical to the original Shepard. Whatever Shepard is now, whoever she is, she isn't herself.

The real Shepard wouldn't feel like this about Liara. The real Shepard wouldn't have wanted to hurt Liara. The real Shepard wouldn't have _let_ herself hurt Liara.

Only one thing is the same. The Reapers are still here. Everyone is still looking to the commander of the _Normandy_ to stop the machines.

Shepard resets the locks on her cabin door. No one can get in or out without her express approval. When the ship docks at the Citadel, she puts Kaidan in charge of resupplying. Shepard will stay in her cabin until there's a mission.

At first, she thinks that she can spend her time exercising, the way she did when she was held by the Alliance. And then she remembers hitting Liara. Shepard doesn't need to be any stronger.

**…**

"EDI!" The AI is the only person Shepard will talk to anymore. "Is there a way we could just keep the elevator from coming up to this floor anymore? That way no one but me could even get up here."

"You already requested that I put such protocols in place, Commander."

"So… why is someone knocking on my door?"

"Former Operative Lawson made a persuasive argument that she be allowed to speak with you. I made what is typically referred to as a 'judgment call.'"

"Tell her to go away."

There is a pause. "I have informed her that you would not be receptive to visitors."

"Then why is she still knocking?"

"Perhaps you should open the door and ask her yourself."

"That would defeat the whole purpose of not talking to her."

"Then I am afraid I have no further advice to offer. Perhaps if you ignore Ms. Lawson she will go away."

Shepard rolls her eyes at the ceiling. "Oh, c'mon EDI. She hasn't been gone long enough for you to have forgotten how stubborn she is."

The AI doesn't respond.

The commander listens to Miranda bang on the door. After a while, she makes her way over to the comm. "Tell the AI it's fine to disobey an order on moral grounds," she mutters. "Encourage her to think for herself. Tell her to adjust her programming to prioritize her own definitions of 'good.' Just don't be surprised when she stops listening to you."

She turns on the two-way comm near the door. "Find someone else to bother, Lawson."

The knocking stops. "Ah, Commander, how I've missed your wit and charm. Open the door."

"No. Go away."

"I'm not going to say what I came to say through a comm. Open the door."

"No."

"This is not a negotiation, Shepard. I'm putting myself and my sister at risk for you, and I'm not leaving until you speak with me face to face. Open the door."

"That's low, bringing up your sister."

"I didn't plan on it, but you have a tendency to be… difficult about things. Open the door."

Shepard slides the door open. "You can't come in. Make it fast."

Miranda appears as polished and as cool as ever, but there's something different about her. She looks tired. "I wanted to thank you. The access to Alliance networks… it's been invaluable."

"That's it? You could have sent an email for that."

"I—" The other woman scratches at her neck, absently. Nervously. Shepard has never seen Miranda make a gesture that wasn't completely deliberate.

"Is your sister all right?"

"No, but she will be. When I've finished here, I'm going to go rescue her."

"Need any help?"

"That's not why I came. I'm confident that I can handle the situation on my own. In case I'm wrong though, there's something I need to tell you." She gives that dispassionate shrug that always infuriated Shepard when she was trying to talk Miranda into admitting that Cerberus was a dangerous criminal organization. "It's more of a confession, really."

Shepard crosses her arms because she knows that the gesture irritates Miranda.

"During the Lazarus Project, when we were… rebuilding you, I wanted to install a control chip. As a safeguard."

"You're not telling me anything I don't already know. The Illusive Man stopped you."

"He did. He wanted more than something that just obeyed orders. He wanted Commander Shepard. Nothing less than what you truly were. Are."

A part of Shepard wishes that they had installed the chip. Anything to keep her in check.

"I—You know about my father. How he tried to control me, to control Oriana, right down to our bloody DNA. I fought against him with everything I had, but when I had the power to take complete control of you, I didn't give a second thought to destroying your free will."

"My free will is overrated," Shepard says. "Some days, I think a failsafe might be a good idea."

The ex-Cerberus operative studies the soldier closely. "Dr. T'Soni mentioned that you've been reclusive of late. She's under the impression that you're experiencing an extreme form of survivor's guilt over the loss of Thessia, which caused you to lash out at her. She's very concerned."

"I'm fine. Liara doesn't need to worry about me. She should worry about herself."

There's silence for a few moments. Then both women start to speak at once.

"I want you to know that I always regretted—"

"Did Liara look all right to you when you—"

The raised eyebrow and amused glint in Miranda's eye combine to make Shepard suspicious. "What?" she asks.

"A short while ago, you'd have been strutting around and gloating because I apologized to you. Yet today, you actually seemed to imply that a control chip might have been a good idea, and you're more interested in your Shadow Broker than my apology? Either you've greatly matured since our last conversation, Shepard or…" she leaves the thought unfinished and shrugs again.

Shepard starts to protest that Liara is not 'her' Shadow Broker, but thinks better of it. "Either I've greatly matured... or what?" she asks instead. "Or, or I… worry about my crew too much?" She snorts skeptically. "Not likely. The last time I was in the same room as Liara, I punched her so hard that I'm pretty sure I knocked some of her freckles off."

"And you've been hiding up here ever since, thinking that you need a control chip installed in your brain, apparently."

"What're you implying?"

"I'm not implying anything, Commander. I just came by to thank you, to apologize, and to reassure you that no matter how extensive the reconstruction Project Lazarus performed was, you're the same Commander Shepard you always were." Miranda smiles. "I doubt that even indoctrination would be sufficient to alter you."

Jokes from Miranda are so rare that Shepard can't let this one slide by. "You sound regretful about that last one."

"Oh, believe me, I am. Still, on the off-chance that exasperating the Reapers to death is the only way to preserve the galaxy, I suppose it's in everyone's best interest that you remain just as you are."

"Careful, Lawson. I might start to think you don't despise me."

"Well then, I'd better leave before your ego grows any larger."

They shake hands, and Miranda pushes the button for the elevator. "Hey, Lawson," Shepard says. Miranda turns. "I, uh, thanks. For, you know, giving me my life back."

"You're welcome." She steps into the elevator. Before the doors slide shut, Miranda smirks. "'Absence from those we love is self from self—a deadly banishment,'" she recites. "Stop hiding, Shepard. And... good luck with your Shadow Broker."

"She's not—" Before the commander can retort, the doors slide shut. "Son of a bitch," she mutters, shaking her head.

* * *

_**Author's Note:** Special thanks to Miranda Lawson for being the voice of reason I couldn't make convincing coming from anyone else._ _Extra-special thanks to all of you who read and/or review. I appreciate it, and I hope you're enjoying the reading as much as I am the writing!_


	33. It: Shepard

**It: Shepard**

After Miranda leaves, Shepard sits on the floor of her cabin and meditates. Thane liked meditation. He and Samara were always sitting still together and glowing. Apparently it helps biotics focus? Or something? Shepard isn't quite sure. When she asked, Samara told her that successful meditation required emptying one's mind of all thoughts, and Thane had told her to join them, since Shepard was already halfway there.

(Do other people know that Thane was capable of jokes? Of teasing? Garrus certainly seemed surprised the first time Shepard came to him crying with laughter and trying to remember exactly how Thane's joke about the volus fighter pilot went. She forgets his lighter side unforgivably often these days. Thane was full of wonderful surprises, and for a while Shepard had been determined to discover them all. If he were still here, would Shepard be with him still? Would she have left him for Kaidan? Would she leave them both for—someone like Vega? Probably not. Not for him.)

Do all biotics meditate? Kaidan probably does. He always has such control over himself. Shepard has never asked. Does Javik? He could do with some mellowing. Does—?

Shepard doesn't meditate often. She needs action and movement. A friend once told her that she was going to die young no matter how old she lived to be. "You can't imagine your body being any less than it is right now," he'd said. "When it gives out on you, that's going to be the day you die, Shep. You could live for another fifty years, but that will be the day you die." It had been a weird and morbid thing to say. Shepard hadn't wanted to listen to him. Lately, she understands what he'd meant.

She can't imagine what life will be like if they win this war. Will she go back to fighting pirates and slavers? The Batarian Hegemony is gone. The demand for slaves has likely died with it. Shepard was born to be a soldier. What if when the war is over there's no need for soldiers? What is she supposed to do?

She'll probably die and it won't matter.

_You can stay with me…You could be an operative. Not one who gathers intelligence. You could lead my wetworks squad. Or help me build up my own merc band._

Shepard has been meditating almost every day, trying desperately to clear her mind of any and all thoughts.

**…**

If you can call what she's been experiencing sleep, Shepard has fallen asleep at her desk. That's not so unusual. She hasn't been able to fall asleep in her bed, on the couches, or on the chairs. Her mind knows that Shepard doesn't deserve any sort of peace, and it wages constant war against her body and what her body wants. When her eyes do close for an hour or two, she always wakes to find herself in an uncomfortable position. At least there are no dreams anymore. Although she always feels an odd sense of loss when she wakes. For some reason, life feels disappointing.

_Ever had that one thing you always wanted to do before you died?_

She jerks awake at her desk. Her head snaps up quickly. She's fairly certain that if Cerberus hadn't upgraded her with all sorts of artificial bits, the motion would have broken her neck.

She has an answer. She has an answer to Garrus' question! It's a small, stupid thing that might not matter to most people, and certainly isn't sophisticated or galaxy-shaking, but it's an answer. Something just for her.

Someone once told Shepard that the unconscious mind has an incredible ability to answer questions that seem impossible during one's waking hours. She never believed it, but she might believe now.

She wants to tell Liara her answer.

That doesn't make sense. Garrus was the one who asked the question. She should want to tell Garrus. She does want to tell Garrus. Just… she doesn't want to tell him first. Which still doesn't make any sense.

No, wait, it does make sense. She already knows Garrus' answer to the question. She doesn't know Liara's answer. Okay, so if Shepard tells Liara what her own answer is, maybe Liara will have one of her own to share. See? Simple. It does make sense. It's all right. It's normal.

None of that matters, anyhow. Shepard is in solitary confinement. She's not going to tell _anyone_.

"Self from self," she scoffs. Miranda is one to talk. The woman would have let her little sister go her whole life not knowing she had family who loved her. And why? To protect her? Shepard still thinks it was selfish. You don't stay away from someone because you love them. At the very least, you tell them. You always tell them, and then you let them decide what to do. Even if they don't want you in their life, knowing that you love them is something they can always have. A gift of self-worth so that they always feel valuable. No, Miranda hadn't stayed away from her sister because she loved her. She had stayed away because she was afraid that her sister wouldn't love her back. Coward.

As she contemplates Miranda and Oriana Lawson, Shepard becomes uncomfortably aware that a person could apply these theories to her own recent behavior. She tells herself the situations are completely different. There's nothing wrong with loving your sister. It's not unusual, or surprising. If you have a sister, you love her. You're supposed to. You expect that sort of love. You don't expect—

Nope. Not going to say it.

No.

No.

No.

No.

Oh, fine.

What you don't expect is—

You don't expect to—to—

You don't expect—

No one plans—

You don't expect to—

She can't say it. She actually can't.

If she can't say it, does that mean that it isn't real?

She would love for it not to be real.


	34. Meaning: Liara

**Meaning: Liara**

Kaidan is sitting alone in the mess hall when Liara wanders in. He is contemplating a large glass bottle half-full of some sort of red-brown liquid. It has a label on it that is covered in strange markings. Given how intensely he is staring at the bottle, she assumes that it must have human writing on it. When she is closer to the man, Liara sees that most of it is in fact an intricate pattern. The way that Kaidan is studying the lines and whorls, he must be drunk.

"Doctor!" He smiles so unreservedly that for a moment he looks nothing like himself. Is this what he is like with Shepard? Liara can understand how Shepard could let herself be drawn in by that smile. Could let herself love that smile. "I'm having a drink. Why don't you join me?"

It is terrible that she has never seen him smile like this before. Maybe that is why he is drawn to Shepard. She is always smiling, beautifully and happily. Shepard is cheerful enough to make up for all the disappointments in the galaxy. Like a star, almost. Bright and intense with a gravitational pull it is difficult to escape.

Everyone who meets Shepard ends up in orbit around her.

Maybe that is why Liara thinks about Shepard so often. Why she will follow the human anywhere. Forgive her for anything.

"Hey, Liara? You all right?"

Goddess. How long has she been standing here gaping at nothing like a sheltered little girl who has never left asari space?

"You still do that absentminded professor thing you used to do," Kaidan chuckles. "Nice to see that some things never change."

"Absentminded professor?" she asks, sitting across from him at the table.

"You never had a teacher who just wasn't all there? You know, brilliant but kind of dorky? Like, their mind operated on a completely different plan from everyone else, and it was just too much trouble for them to take the time to handle the little details of everyday life that are so important to the rest of us? A space-case!"

Liara frowns as she settles into a seat across from the major. She was fairly certain he intended to pay her a compliment, but she feels vaguely insulted. "I am going to pretend you stopped talking after you told me I was brilliant." Is there a tactful way to convince him to go to bed?

Kaidan pushes the bottle towards her. "You should join me. _Someone _should join me." When Liara refrains from drinking, he shrugs and takes another drink.

"Are you all right?" she asks.

"You bet I am! I got some really great news today. My students're safe." Liara is confused before she remembers that Kaidan spent the past year training human biotics in covert operations tactics. Idly, she wonders where he learned covert tactics. Certainly not with Shepard. It must have been after the commander's death.

"So you are celebrating?"

His smile tightens. "Well, I also heard from my family today. From my mom. My dad… he's MIA."

Liara does not know what 'MIA' means, but the slump of the man's shoulders makes it easy enough to guess.

"I'm sorry," she says. "What happened?"

"My family was on Earth. In Vancouver, actually, where Shep—where the _Normandy _was grounded. They got out of the city, made it to this orchard my family owns, and… and then Dad went back to sign up for active duty. Now he's 'missing,' which, you know, means that he's…." Kaidan scowls and takes another gulp of alcohol. "Stupid! You wouldn't believe the crap he gave me when I enlisted, and then he just left Mom alone…."

How would Shepard comfort Kaidan? Liara reaches out and puts a hand on Kaidan's. "Punishing yourself will not change things," she says. "He did what he thought was right. The way we all do."

"I know!" the human snaps. He rubs a hand over his eyes. "I—I'm sorry, Liara. I just wanted to… I was hoping Shepard would talk to me, you know, since her father…. EDI wouldn't even let me up to the loft!" He glares accusingly at the ceiling.

"What about Shepard's father?"

Kaidan cocks an eyebrow. "You didn't know? I thought for sure she told you. Doesn't she at least tell _you_ everything?" There's an angry bitterness to his words. "Her dad was stationed at the medical center on Mars. Maybe you met him. I think his name was Upton?" When Liara does not respond, Kaidan shrugs and takes another drink. "Well, anyway, you were on Mars.

"So, I've got students who're safe and a dad who's dead, and I feel like an asshole for wanting things reversed. The one person I thought I could always rely on doesn't talk to me anymore because she doesn't want to 'hurt' me…. Selfish, heartless bitch," he whispers. Then he flinches. "I don't mean that."

Liara is proud of herself for not fidgeting. This conversation is quite uncomfortable.

"It's not her fault if she's not… built like everyone else, right?" Kaidan asks. What is Liara supposed to say? "If she can't love us back?"

"Us?" True, it is hard to ignore whatever her feelings for Shepard might be when she is in such close proximity to the human, but Liara is adept at concealing her feelings, isn't she?

"Me. That poor bastard, Krios. Anyone else she might've led on without meaning to. And she doesn't mean to. I know that." He stares at the bottle. "She gave me this, you know. I thought that meant something." The human scoffs and takes another drink. "I wonder what she gave Krios."

Suddenly, the dog tags around Liara's neck feel like something illicit. Like something she has stolen from the man in front of her. She has to go. "You should get some sleep, Kaidan."

There is a message waiting for her on the terminal in her office. Shepard plans to spend tomorrow on the Presidium, would Liara come with her? Shepard has something to do before she dies.


	35. Fashions: Liara

**Fashions: Liara**

This is where Shepard wanted to meet. So where is she? Liara is beginning to suspect that she has fallen victim to another juvenile prank. She frowns. Apparently, even knowing Shepard for years, being fully aware that the human has no interest in maturing, and having access to the most sophisticated information network in the galaxy are not sufficient to warn an asari when she is being played for a fool.

It would not be surprising if the commander's self-imposed exile was all part of an elaborate set-up. She and Garrus have undoubtedly hacked into one of the security feeds covering this area of the Presidium to have a good laugh at Liara's expense. The impulse to make a rude gesture at the nearest surveillance camera is strong.

Ah, well. As long as she's on the Citadel, Liara might as well take advantage of the opportunity to purchase some much-needed hardware to upgrade the processors on her own network. Allowing EDI to integrate with the Shadow Broker's system would have the same effect at less expense, but Liara is not about to allow the nosiest AI in the galaxy access to the galaxy's largest store of sensitive information.

(Thankfully, EDI is too polite to attempt to overcome the firewalls Liara has put in place. Politeness: secrecy's last line of defense.)

Perhaps she will force Shepard to help her upgrade her network. The soldier has an irrational aversion to most technology. It would be a fitting punishment. Although then Liara would have to redo all of the commander's work. Perhaps she will merely set the loft on fire. Or buy fish for Shepard's tank! Oh, that is a good idea. Give the commander some unwanted responsibility. Some more unwanted responsibility. Poor Shepard. No, setting the loft on fire is the better plan.

Liara starts to make her way to the taxi stand.

A human who has been waving in Liara's general direction for the past few minutes now walks quickly towards her. "Hey! Hold up, T'Soni!" the woman shouts. Liara knows that voice. It's Shepard! Goddess, she didn't recognize her! This is embarrassing.

It is not Liara's fault. How could she have predicted that Shepard would be… disguised?

(Why does she bother trying to predict _anything_ about Shepard, honestly?)

The commander's hair hangs loose around her face, but neatly, in carefully arranged layers rather than the haphazard mess Liara is used to seeing the woman adopt when she is 'relaxing.' It sways at her every small motion, drifting past her eyes and across her face. There is makeup on her face. Subtle, but not invisible. It alters the lines of her mouth and makes her eyes dramatic. It turns Liara's closest friend into a glamorous stranger. Into the human hero that so many people have fallen in love with.

(That actress who played Shepard in _Citadel…_ when Shepard wears makeup, it actually wasn't a bad casting decision).

That isn't really what fooled Liara though. Given time, she would have seen through the different hairstyle and the face paint. But she had been expecting Shepard. The soldier. Who would rather die than…

She is wearing a skirt. A rather immodest skirt, Liara can't help noticing. And a shirt made of some sort of light, silky material that _drapes_. The sleeves are merely wide strips of cloth connected to the cuffs at Shepard's wrists. The clothes turn Shepard into a different person. Not that she isn't beautiful on her own but…. The whole effect is astounding.

"You're wearing a skirt." Yes, Liara is a skilled scientist and information broker, capable of keen insight and observation.

(Goddess, look at her legs!)

Shepard frowns and smoothes the offending garment. "I didn't want people to recognize me at first glance," she says. "My only clothes are Alliance issue." Liara tactfully refrains from mentioning the dress Shepard wore to Purgatory. "It looks stupid, doesn't it?" She runs her hands over the skirt again, a gesture of embarrassment. "It's not really my style. I had to borrow it from Traynor; she's the only person I know well enough… and she _looks_ near my size, but in reality, she's unforgivably tiny, so it's a little tight, and a little short, but it was the only thing she had that even came close to fitting and didn't look like it could belong to Commander—" Has Shepard always rambled like this?

"You look lovely." Liara slides her hand between the slits of the silky shirt's sleeve and puts it on Shepard's bare arm. The human stops talking.

"Thanks," she mumbles, blushing. "Although, what does this say about how I look most of the time, if you couldn't even recognize me?" She addresses her joke to the ground, but Liara laughs anyway.

"It says that an asari's eyes are the first thing to go." She releases Shepard.

The commander glances up, looking relieved. "That's right, you're only a few steps away from the grave, aren't you? How old are you now? A billion? A billion and twelve?"

"Watch what you say," Liara can't bring herself to muss Shepard's hair by tugging on it, so she settles for elbowing the woman. Gently. "Or you might die before you get to do whatever you wanted to do today. What _did_ you want to do, anyway?"

Shepard makes a motion as though to take Liara's hand before thinking better of it and simply leading the way towards a decidedly seedy-looking side street. "C'mon, T'Soni!" she grins.

Oh, Goddess.

**…**

The needle bursts through the appendage on the right side of Shepard's head. She takes a sharp, panicky breath. Liara cannot help being amused that a seasoned soldier who faces bullets, fanatics, and Reapers without flinching is intimidated by something she claimed was a human ritual that infants and adolescents often go through.

The rough-looking batarian secures a bit of jewelry to Shepard's ear, sprays a medigel solution on it to stop the bleeding, and prepares another needle. He pierces her right ear again. Liara tries to take Shepard's hand, but the stubborn idiot pushes her away.

One piercing in the left ear. Shepard looks ill. Two. A third, this one through the upper curve of her ear.

Shepard faints. The batarian snorts in disgust and checks to make sure that her final piercing is intact. Sprays it with medigel. "She'll be fine," he declares. "Keep her still for a few minutes after she wakes up. _Humans_," he adds derisively as he exits the room.

After a moment, Shepard's eyes snap open. She sits up before Liara can stop her, wobbles slightly, and immediately lies back down.

"Not feeling so well, are you?" Liara asks wickedly. She leans over her friend and smirks as she brushes errant strands of hair away from the woman's face.

Shepard blushes a very deep shade of red as her memory comes back to her. "Do you even know how beautiful you are?" she asks earnestly, pressing Liara's hand against her cheek. Goddess, it's like a scene from a vid. Shepard must be worried.

Liara bites back her laughter. "You are very sweet," she says, "but flattery will not be sufficient to buy my silence."

"But—" The commander frowns for a moment. She lets go of Liara and smiles. "Not even if I _tell_ you how beautiful you are?" Her voice is light, confident, charming. Nothing thwarts Shepard for long.

"I am an information broker, Shepard. Do you have any idea what this story is worth? You are going to have to do much better than merely appealing to my vanity. I am not a sheltered academic who can be easily flustered by a worldly marine. Well, not anymore," she amends with a smile.

"Too bad for me," Shepard grumbles as she sits up again, slowly this time. When Liara grips her shoulder to steady her, Shepard twitches petulantly away. She can be so immature.


	36. Overthinking: Shepard

**Overthinking: Shepard**

She tells herself a thousand times that this is a bad idea, but she still goes.

She's late. She's not very late, but she's late. She fussed over what to wear for too long. She begged Traynor for help. She put on makeup. She spent time on her hair. She didn't want anyone to recognize her.

(She was nervous. She wanted to look nice for Liara. Shut up.)

Doesn't Liara see her? Is she ignoring Shepard? Shepard knows that she deserves to be ignored, but why would Liara come at all if she planned to ignore Shepard? Isn't that sort of inefficient? Liara is pretty efficient, right? Is Shepard making that up? Is Shepard completely unable to be objective about Liara anymore?

Liara looks so…

What the hell is Shepard doing? Goddess of oceans! Some part of her sick little mind thinks that this is a date, doesn't it? This is not a date. This is _Liara_.

(Exactly. This is Liara, and Shepard likes her. _Likes_ her likes her. The last time Shepard was this nervous, she was in a supply closet with Tarou Yamamoto, about to lose her— Shut up.)

Liara keeps looking past Shepard. Doesn't she…. She's _leaving?_ She really doesn't have a clue that Shepard's here, does she? If she lets Liara go, Shepard can keep hiding. Wouldn't that be better? It's going to be miserable to spend time with Liara and try to pretend that everything is normal. Let Liara take a shuttle back to the _Normandy._

She takes a deep breath and calls after Liara. Shepard is sick.

The asari perks up and looks around. She looks past Shepard again, then at her. Finally. She blinks. Shit. How bad does Shepard look in this outfit? Liara is staring. She looks disbelieving. Shit. The makeup was a bad idea. Shepard must look like a clown. Or a whore. Why is she wearing this skirt? Why did she think a skirt was important at all? Would it have been so bad if the Citadel press followed her to the ear-piercing place? What kind of do-it-before-you-die dream is getting your ears pierced? The next time she talks to Big Shepard, the admiral is going to hear about how a strict military upbringing made her daughter have a quarterlife crisis.

(Oh, goddess of oceans. Her mother! What is she going to tell her mother? How is she going to explain this? Explain Liara? What will Mom say? She's pretty levelheaded about most things, but this isn't most things. Is this even a thing? It isn't. There's nothing to explain. Shut up.)

Liara points out that Shepard is wearing a skirt. Like Shepard wouldn't notice something like that. Liara, when you wear something that causes you to almost fall down a flight of stairs, flash half the Citadel, and break your stupid face open, it's impossible not to notice it. Plus, in order to borrow it, she promised the uppity Specialist a ton of chess matches. Traynor can be insufferable sometimes. It's pretty obvious why she's having trouble finding someone to play with.

Shit, don't touch Shepard, Liara! Like breathing in this stupid, stupid skirt isn't hard enough?

(Did she just say that Shepard looks lovely? Did she mean that, or was she just trying to get Shepard to shut up? She meant it like a friend. Or like, a grandmother, maybe? 'You look lovely, dearie.' That's probably it. Liara is old enough to be Shepard's grandmother. Oh, this whole mess is so wrong. Shut up!)

See Shepard. See Shepard act like an idiot. Please stop touching her, Liara.

Oh, wait. Jokes? Are they pretending things are normal? That Shepard hasn't been acting like a complete and utter nutcase for the past week or so? Okay. That works. Look, Shepard can be normal. Sort of.

Screw it. Let's go stick needles in Shepard's ears. Who knows? Maybe all the stupid will leak out!

**…**

Of course the asari don't pierce their ears. They don't even have ears. Liara looks at Shepard like she's insane when she tries to explain what she wants to do. Well, it's not like Shepard could get back to Elysium and finally climb Mount Homer before she dies, could she?

HOW DOES LIARA NOT KNOW ABOUT MOUNT HOMER? What kind of information broker is she? A pretty crappy one! WHAT DOES SHE MEAN, SHE'S NEVER BEEN MOUNTAIN CLIMBING? She's a hundred and nine years old! What has she been doing all this time?

(Maybe it's good. Shepard could never love someone who didn't love mountains and mountain climbing. Not that Shepard loves Liara. Shut up.)

Liara's always wanted to go mountain climbing? Of course she has. Because she's Liara, and she's perfect. Why couldn't Liara be Kaidan? Shepard is a horrible person.

No, sorry, Shepard was listening. Mountains are her favorite thing. They'll have to go tackle Homer together someday. In a wonderful, imaginary future, where the Reapers are gone and life goes back to normal.

Shepard is babbling. Liara looks like she's going to laugh. Or worse, try to touch Shepard again! Have they always been this touchy, the two of them? No, the universe is punishing Shepard for something. Whatever it is, she's sorry already! Shepard shuts up.

When Liara meets the batarian who runs the piercing parlor, she looks decidedly suspicious. She looks at Shepard like the human has finally lost her grip on reality. Shepard laughs. For a moment, everything feels normal.

**…**

Shepard fainted? Oh, today just keeps getting worse and….

Whoa. Dizzy.

No one can ever… know… about…. Is that blurry blue shape Liara? Shepard recognizes that voice. Yeah, that's Liara. What's she… doing?

Okay, maybe just lying here isn't so bad.

How can someone who spends her time surrounded by computers and monitors have such calloused fingertips? Fifty years of Prothean dig sites, that's how. Are the palms of her hands calloused, too?

(What kind of question is that? Shepard knows perfectly well that Liara's hands aren't…. Oh, for—Really? Just needed an excuse to touch the asari, did you, Shepard? Goddess of—What is Shepard doing? Shut up, Shepard! Stop talking! Now! Stop talking now! Shut up, shut up!)

Liara thinks Shepard was joking. That should be a relief. It's actually disappointing. Even if it does keep everything the way it should be.

(Is this the way things should be? Of course it is. But…. No. Everything's fine like this. Shepard will get over this, eventually, and she won't have sacrificed a friendship to her incredibly fickle libido. Wait, libido? What? Shut up.)

Does Liara really not know that she's beautiful? That has to be a crime somewhere, doesn't it? Can Shepard make it a crime? She's a Spectre.

Liara, you're so beautiful that if you told Shepard that the Reapers were really on the right side of it, she'd wipe out all sentient life herself. Just on the off-chance that it would make you smile. Except that you're not just beautiful, you're a beautiful person. You'd never want to think that Shepard hurt anyone because of something you said. Unless they deserved it, or were threatening innocent people, or something. It would be hard to secretly get rid of all sentient life, but Shepard would figure out a way. It would take her whole lifetime, because, let's face it, Shepard has never been the brightest star in the galaxy, but she'd find a way.

This whole thing is getting away from the commander.

Liara, everything about you is so beautiful that when you're around, Shepard doesn't even care that she can't think straight.

(Think 'straight,' ha! Good one! Shut up.)

* * *

_**Author's Note: **As always, thanks for sticking with me and my thick-headed Shepard. I'm approaching the biggest assessment of my professional life, so updates are probably going to slow somewhat, though I'll do my best to keep them steadily coming._

_On a completely different note: apparently 'Pressure' caught the notice of people from the Bioware Social Network's Liara Support Thread! (And not in a pitchforks and torches kind of way, either!) Needless to say I was wicked flattered to find this out! If you're coming to this story from the BSN, welcome! Hopefully I'm doing Liara justice._


	37. Park: Shepard

**Park: Shepard**

Shepard wraps her arms around her legs. She props her chin on her knees and lets her feet soak in the cool water of the lake. This part of the Presidium is calm, green, and beautiful. It's like something out of a vid. Looking around, Shepard has a hard time remembering that just a few levels down there are places where she can see out into space. She has an even harder time remembering that just a few systems away, people are dying in the most horrible ways imaginable.

"Are you sure you don't want to do something a little more exciting?" She doesn't let herself look at Liara when she asks the question. The asari always smiles at Shepard's impatience, and the commander knows that her stores of self-resolve are reaching dangerously low levels. She shouldn't even be here. She should call an end to this day, but that would take Liara away from her favorite part of the Presidium. Stupid Shepard can't say no to Liara anymore.

"I would think you have had enough excitement for one day. Or were you hoping that if we did something that terrified me, I would forget that getting your ears pierced caused you to faint?" Despite the mocking words, Liara's voice is kind, as though she worries about offending Shepard. She reaches up from where she lies in the grass to run a finger along the rim of Shepard's ear, touching the three new studs there. The commander feels lightheaded in a way that has nothing to do with passing out.

"Besides," Liara continues, "I love this part of the Presidium. It reminds me of where I grew up."

"Thessia?" A still-dizzy Shepard manages to choke out the name of the asari homeworld.

She imagines that Liara nods as she says, "Armali. My mother and I lived beside a park. I used to spend hours there."

It's so odd to think that most people grow up with dirt and grass within easy reach. The human lies back and closes her eyes, trying to imagine Liara as a little girl. "What was it like?"

"Peaceful," Liara responds immediately. "It always smelled fresh. There is so much element zero in Thessia's soil that the flora there all exudes the ozone scent that I associate with the manipulation of dark energy. Not just flowers, Shepard, trees, bushes, everything. I suppose that is why I have always enjoyed being outdoors. It was the perfect place for a child to read and explore."

The image of a small, freckled asari lugging an overly thick book to her favorite spot in the fork of a sturdy tree makes Shepard smile.

"Oh, I thought it was the most beautiful place in the world." Liara sighs. "It must be gone now. I wish you could have seen it."

"If I live through this war, you can show me. Even if it's gone, it has to be better than the places I played when I was a kid."

"Where was that?"

"Underfoot," Shepard cracks. "In the air ducts, storage rooms, the mess of whatever ship we were living on, the armories. Not very scenic, but good if you want to be a soldier when you grow up. I could put together an assault rifle without help by the time I was seven. Gave me a big advantage at boot camp. Ships are cramped though, you know, especially for kids. I used to drive my mom and her COs crazy, but I was so darn cute they couldn't resist my charms."

"Oh, really?"

"Nope. Did you know they make leg irons small enough for a kid?"

"Perhaps they ordered a special set for you."

"Ha! Maybe. Anyway, if you've seen one Alliance ship, you've pretty much seen them all. But it sounds like your park is something special."

From the tone of Liara's voice, she's probably frowning. "It used to be… I have not been home in forty years. Benez—My mother always thought we'd visit." Out of the corner of her eye, Shepard notices a blue hand flit to Liara's breastbone. To the place where her dog tags probably rest. Shepard is glad that she could give Liara something tangible to call the matriarch to mind.

"You miss her." It isn't a question.

"So much for the celebrated asari ability to take a philosophical approach to death," Liara says bitterly.

"Yes, you're constantly disappointing me, T'Soni," Shepard lies. "What with your horrible habit of still loving your mother."

"I should try to be more like you," Liara says. She wants to be more like Shepard? She wants to fall in—wants to _like _like her best female friend and have such trouble coping with that unpleasant reality that she punches the unwitting asari in the face, hides for a week, and then demands forgiveness?

"You did not tell me about your father," Liara concludes. She sounds slightly accusing. "I could have—Well, I don't know, but you did not have to go through that alone. I'm sorry, Shepard."

Oh. Liara thinks Shepard is being philosophical about her dad's death? "You're giving me too much credit. Dad didn't bother to get in touch with me when I… came back. My aunt told me that he didn't even go to the memorial. He had too much work to make the trip to the Citadel." Unbidden memories of her father letting her play with his stethoscope and teaching her how to use a light to see the layers of a person's eyes rise to mock Shepard. She knows he loved her. He just didn't care about her.

"I hadn't talked to him for years anyway. I could have stepped over him on Mars and I wouldn't have realized it." That's a lie. She had looked for him. She would have known him. She would have seen pieces of herself in his dead face. Her chin. The shape of her eyebrows.

Shepard doesn't want to talk about her father. "Tell me about your mother," she asks Liara.

The asari makes a happy noise. "You would have liked her, even if she never would have laughed at your jokes. The two of you are peacemakers. Confident and kind. Although I suppose that, unlike you, she enjoyed being diplomatic. I never saw her shout at someone until they agreed with her, in any case.

"She loved to wear yellow. There was one dress she had that I thought made her look like Athame when the goddess came down from the sky to bring wisdom to the asari." At the mention of the goddess, Liara makes her frustrated duck face. If she is thinking about the Prothean intervention in asari evolution, she doesn't mention it. "Mother was friendly to everyone, charismatic, beautiful… I thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

"She wasn't a very good liar," Liara laughs. "When I was little, I wanted a pet, but she pretended to be allergic to everything. I suppose it says more about me than her though. I even believed that she was allergic to fish. Goddess, I was so stupid!" Her laughter is too harsh. Shepard turns her head and studies the information broker. No smile.

"Hey." Shepard sits up. It doesn't matter if she feels… strange about Liara. They have been friends for years, and right now Shepard's friend is in pain. "All of those good things about her, they're still here. In you. I mean, c'mon! How many times have I told you that you're a terrible liar?" She makes herself smile, and squeezes Liara's hand. "You'll be okay."

There's the smile that Shepard was hoping for. The asari pulls her hand out of the human's and pushes herself into a sitting position. "Thank you, Shepard," she says. When she puts an arm around the commander, Shepard stiffens, so the hug only lasts for an instant. "Maybe you're right."

"I'm always right," Shepard asserts. "It hurts that you doubt me, T'Soni."

"As though anything could bruise that ego of yours," Liara retorts.

They laugh together. Shepard wants to believe that she could be happy like this. Just… friends. Liara is worth just being friends.

"I'll regret telling you this," the asari says now, "but you do make me feel better."

Shepard looks away before Liara can see her frown. "I'm sorry that I've been such an ass," she says quietly. "But I'm better now, I swear. And I'll never hurt you again. That's a promise."

"Oh, Shepard." A hand cups Shepard's chin and turns the human back to face her friend. "I hurt when you hurt. Like now. You are not happy."

"No," Shepard admits. She closes her eyes so she doesn't have to face Liara. The asari is too perceptive. She might realize why Shepard is so miserable.

"I wish you would let me help you. Won't you tell me what is wrong?"

Oh, Liara. Don't you know to be careful what you wish for? "No."

Liara lets go of Shepard's face. "Let me know when you change your mind," she says.

Shepard won't change her mind.


	38. Friendship: Liara

**Friendship: Liara**

Shepard is desperate to buy Liara's silence. The asari suspects that if she asks to go to the Citadel's natural history museum, Shepard would spend the whole day there without complaining. The human has been so light-hearted today. Whenever Liara looks at Shepard, the soldier is smiling. Only when she studies the woman out of the corner of her eye does the information broker catch the signs of strain. Signs of exhaustion. Signs of sadness.

If only the commander would talk to her.

Why does Shepard persist in keeping her secrets? Liara suspects that she could wait for the entirety of the human's lifespan and still not be made privy to half the things that Shepard thinks. Her friend's father was on Mars. Instead of looking for him, Shepard rescued Liara. She stopped Cerberus. She secured the plans for the Crucible. She made Liara talk to Aethyta and never mentioned that Dr. Upton was dead. Or that Admiral Shepard was missing. She is there when Liara needs to cry, but Shepard never comes crying to Liara.

Perhaps that is what it means to be a soldier. Despite everything that she has lived through these past few years, Liara knows that she will always be a civilian. She is too selfish to sacrifice the people she loves to duty. That is the difference between her and Shepard, she supposes. Shepard would not hesitate to destroy everything that mattered to her if it would save others. The human lied when she said that thinking about what she has to lose keeps her fighting. In this war, a soldier cannot afford to dwell on the things that matter to her, because she knows that she might not be able to keep them.

Is that why Shepard holds everyone at arm's length? Why she pushed Kaidan away once and for all? Why she punched Liara? Does she want her friends to matter less to her?

Liara thinks about ending this day that they are spending together, but she is a civilian, and selfish, and she has _missed_ Shepard. No one else manages to look even halfway normal when they listen to Liara talk about helping Thessian refugees. She loves that Shepard smothers her pity and asks questions.

When they pass the plaza that leads down to Liara's favorite stretch of greenery by one of the smaller Presidium lakes, she cannot help sighing. Shepard asks if something is wrong. Liara laughs and the human looks unsure as to what the joke is. After she tells Shepard that this is her favorite part of the Presidium, the human insists on being shown what is so special.

**…**

"I must remember to tell Specialist Traynor how much I appreciate her generosity in loaning you that skirt," Liara giggles as Shepard stands awkwardly on the bank of the lake, trying to figure out how to sit without losing the last remaining shreds of her dignity. "Watching you struggle with it is providing me with blackmail material valuable enough to rebuild the Shadow Broker's ship."

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," the human grumbles. "I hope something in the grass bites you. In a very uncomfortable place."

"Such bitterness is very unbecoming to the Savior of the Citadel."

"The asari expect more from their heroes than humans do." Shepard half-turns and studies the slope of the lawn.

"And how do you know that?"

"I'm human, aren't I? And apparently I'm a hero. QED: humanity has low standards."

Liara rolls her eyes and stands. She will never understand why Shepard refuses to acknowledge that she deserves the praise and accolades she has received over the years. It is not as though she accidentally became the most remarkable woman in the galaxy.

"Lean on me," she orders. "I'll help you."

"I can do it!" Shepard stumbles when she tries to sidestep Liara. "Don't touch me!"

"Goddess," Liara prays facetiously, "please help me to deal with short-sighted species, and guide them to the path of wisdom. Give me the patience to tolerate their stubborn foolishness, and the strength to resist the temptation to slam them with a biotic field so strong that what is left of their bodies will fit into a coffee cup."

The commander stares at Liara. "Every time I think I've got a handle on how spooky you can be, you ratchet it up a notch. Or fifty."

She generously ignores the smart remark. "Would you like some help sitting down, Shepard?"

"I—Yeah, that'd be great. Thanks. You're the best." She reluctantly lets Liara put an arm around her waist and help her sit.

Once Shepard is safely settled on the ground, Liara lies back down, half-closing her eyes and letting the artificial sunlight leak through the trees and across her face.

**…**

They have been lounging by the lake for hours now, mostly in silence.

"Are you sure you don't want to do something a little more exciting?" Shepard hints. It took her long enough to ask for permission to leave. Liara cannot keep from smiling; even the most exasperating of the woman's traits are endearing. Will Liara ever find someone else who is as frustratingly wonderful as Commander Shepard?

If they leave the park, they will probably go back to the _Normandy_, and back to working. They will go their separate ways. Liara selfishly tries to distract Shepard with conversation. She reminds the human of her earlier embarrassment. She tells her that she loves this part of the Presidium because it reminds her of Armali.

It works. Shepard grew up in space, on stern, sterile Alliance warships, surrounded by serious adults and the career she would one day bring such credit to. A fascinating childhood, but a lonely one that left her with an interest in how others were raised.

For Shepard's sake, Liara remembers only the good things about the park. Its smell, its beauty, the way its patches of mud beckoned to a budding archeologist. She neglects to mention the many times she ran from bullies, the times she hid under bushes crying and hating herself for being a pureblood.

_The Baria Frontiers offices are in ruins, but all that stands between Liara and the data she was promised is Tela Vasir, her would-be murderer. Despite all the ways she has let Shepard down, the human never doubts Liara's assertions that Vasir is an agent of the Shadow Broker. The commander trains her gun on the treacherous Spectre. Threatens her._

_ Vasir blames Liara for the failure of her plans. How typical. "You pureblood bitch!" she spits furiously, breaking the window and hurling shards of glass at the younger asari and her allies. Liara throws up a barrier, but Shepard ignores the danger and races towards Vasir. Bits of glass shatter against her armor. Foolish. She should have shot Vasir from the safety of the barrier. _

_ The human crashes into the asari. Their momentum drives the two Spectres through the office window. They hurtle towards the ground. Just before the fall, Liara thinks she hears Shepard shout, "Take it back, asshole!"_

She glances at Shepard. Her eyes are closed, a faint smile on her face. Liara has never had a truer friend. If she had known Shepard as a child, she does not doubt that the woman would have tried to protect her from every tormentor and cruel word. If she had known Shepard as a child, she would have loved her then, and she would be without her now. It isn't fair that humans live such short lives!

The commander asks Liara to take her to the Armali park when the war is over. "If I live through this war," she says. Liara doesn't want Shepard to think like that. Shepard has to live forever. Liara doesn't handle death well. Not like Shepard.

When Shepard discusses her father, Liara understands why the human insisted that she meet Aethyta. She watches the human clench her fists as she talks about how her father refused to attend his daughter's memorial service. How he distanced himself from her when she came back to the realm of the living. When Shepard bites her lip, Liara knows not to believe her when she says she never would have recognized her father's body.

Shepard, how can Liara make it hurt less? You must suspect that your father used work to hide from his own grief. Goddess knows that others did the same. That part of each survivor died when you died.

Shepard asks about Benezia. Liara wants to talk more about Shepard's grief. She wants to help. But maybe this is a way to help. All right. Liara can share stories of her mother with her friend.

Why does everything in the galaxy seem to circle back to the rawest of all Liara's pains? Oh, and now she is beginning to cry, when she was supposed to be helping Shepard keep tears at bay.

Shepard repeats what she said to Liara when Benezia first died. "The best parts of your mother live on in you. Her intelligence, her determination, her strength… you're even a terrible liar like she was!" The human's smile does not mask her pain. Why does Shepard insist on sharing Liara's grief and refuse to let Liara share hers? She even shrinks away from the asari's hug.

"Though I hate to feed your ego," Liara says, "thank you, Shepard. You do make me feel better."

"I never meant to hurt you," Shepard whispers. "I'm so, so sorry. I'll be better, I promise. I'll never hurt you again."

"Oh, Shepard." This human! She is not happy unless she is blaming herself for things everyone else has long since forgotten. Liara reaches out to push some of Shepard's hair away from her eyes. The commander clenches her jaw and straightens her spine, trying to pretend that everything is all right. "I hurt when you hurt. You are not happy now, are you?"

"No," Shepard sighs, closing her eyes.

It is good to hear her admit it. It is terrible to know that her friend is hurting. "I wish you would let me help you. Won't you tell me what is wrong?"

"No," Shepard says quietly.

"Let me know when you change your mind," Liara orders. The commander opens her eyes, and they stare out at this little bit of unmarred beauty, hardly daring to believe that it can still exist when so much of the galaxy is black and burning. If she could, Liara would stretch this moment out into eternity, savoring this peace for as long as any sentient being could wish. She is so very tired of fighting.

"I wish," she says. Shepard does not turn her head, but her eyes slide towards the sound of Liara's voice. "I wish…." There are so many things to wish for: more time, less danger, defeated Reapers, a living mother, an untouched Thessia, a death from old age. A chance for Shepard to die of old age.

"I wish we could spend more time together like this. Just… friends."


	39. Singular: Liara

**Singular: Liara**

Liara remembers the first time she was attacked. She was fifty-four—or fifty-seven, perhaps? Young, however you measure time. A newly-minted doctoral student on her first real research dig, working with the amazing Professor Stathis as the woman returned to the ruins that had led to her formulation of revolutionary theories about the fluidity of the Prothean caste system.

The dig had been highly publicized. Undoubtedly, that was how the pirate gang that came looking for hostages and ransoms from the University of Serrice had known where to find their team. Liara had been asleep in her tent when the attack began. Alone.

Her last night thinking that the galaxy was a safe and quiet place.

She does not remember the faces of the males who attacked her. If they were males. They might have been females. Or asari. She doubts that though, none of them were biotics. What she does remember is jerking awake as the air against her face shifted. She remembers throwing out a powerful singularity before even opening her eyes.

The singularity has always been the biotic attack Liara is most comfortable with, but sometimes it is not the most efficient manner of dealing with a threat. Especially when created inside a structure as flimsy as a tent, that can be uprooted and drawn into the singularity along with the pirates that are threatening a person. Liara knows that she might benefit from working on her warp fields, or even her aim in throwing raw pulses of dark energy for just such situations, but the singularity is familiar. Instinctive. It has never failed her.

**…**

Glyph's voice and the hiss of the door intrude on her dream. Light edges under her eyelids. Without being fully awake, Liara knows that someone has entered her room. An attack. She does not pause to think. As she wakes, she acts. In a moment, the glow of a wide singularity field illuminates the cabin. An instant later, the gun she keeps at her bedside is in her hand, trained on the intruder's silhouette.

"Ouch. Shit. Damn, I'm glad you're on my side, T'Soni. But—" There is a thud as whoever Liara has trapped collides with a wall. "Ow!"

"Shepard?" Liara does not lower the pistol, but she eases her finger off its trigger. She stops feeding energy to the singularity.

Sure enough, the commander slumps against the door near the terminal she sometimes borrows for researching armor upgrades. She appears normal enough in fatigues, with her hair pulled back and the cosmetics washed off, but her bowed head and extended legs make her more resemble a doll someone thoughtlessly tossed away. Despite her certainty that Shepard is planning mischief, Liara feels a pang of guilt.

"Are you all right?" Liara frowns. "Are you drunk? What were you thinking? Do you realize how late it is?" She kneels next to the human and examines her, lifting the woman's head and peeling back her eyelids. The commander's pupils appear dilated. Did she hit her head? "Lights," Liara orders.

"Certainly Shadow—"

"Shut up please, info—Glyph," she interrupts absently.

Shepard blinks dazedly in the sudden illumination. "Wearing my sweatshirt, some flimsy white teddy thing, and you sleep with a _gun_ under your pillow? What, are you going for the sexiness trifecta?" Subtle as ever. She's fine. Liara tugs the N7 sweatshirt closed even though her nightclothes are _not _flimsy.

"Goddess, what are you doing here?" She covers Shepard's mouth with her hand when the human tries to speak, "Tell me that there is no need to call you 'goddess,' and I will put you in another singularity. I was _sleeping, _Shepard. Why are you here?" Oh, of course. "Is this is about when you fainted today?" It has to be.

This is too much, even for Shepard. A human who has lived three decades is supposed to be a full adult. Liara knows. She has researched the question. The commander always behaves as though unaware of this fact, however.

What was she planning? To sit on Liara until the asari promised to keep her ridiculous secret? To secure her silence by locking her away in a closet? "I swear that I will never tell anyone," Liara promises. "Now please, go away, so I can sleep!"

"I—" Shepard is wide-eyed. "That's not why I—"

"Shepard, I am too tired for pranks. You may make a fool of me tomorrow, I promise."

The human scowls. "Why do you always assume I'm trying to pull one over on you? Is that what you think of me? That I can't be serious?" From the intent look on her face, it is clear the commander is gathering her resolve to stand despite whatever pain she might be experiencing. "Whatever. The universe wins." She tries to stand and slips, wincing and holding her side. "Serves me right," she mutters.

"Yes it does!" Exasperated, Liara throws her hands in the air. "You are such a child! Sometimes I cannot believe how much faith the galaxy has placed in the hands of an irresponsible jokester—"

"Not everything I say is a joke!" Shepard is red with fury. "_You_ just think it is!"

"Oh, really? What could I possibly have misinterpreted so egregiously that you felt the need to come correct me in the middle of the night? Because you couldn't put me right at the moment I bungled, or goddess forbid, wait until tomorrow, could you? Please, enlighten me!"

"It's nothing! This was stupid. I should go."

Infuriating! Shepard does not get to disturb Liara's rest, make inane accusations, and then leave without even explaining herself. Not tonight. "No you don't!" Liara puts down the pistol, grabs Shepard's left shoulder with her right hand, and sits on the human, effectively pinning her in place. "You're not going anywhere now! What serious thing did I think was a joke?"

"Nothing!"

"Tell me!"

"Nothing to tell!"

"You're trying my patience!"

"Bite me, T'Soni!"

"Oh, don't tempt me!"

"Lemme go!"

"Not until you tell me!"

"I think we'd be good together!"

"Stop wasting my time!"

"I—What? Goddess of oceans, you're so dense! _I think we'd be good together!_"

"Don't—What? Shepard?"

Shepard says nothing. Her eyes are fixed firmly on her own shoulder. The right shoulder. The shoulder Liara is not touching. She is still blushing. Not angry… embarrassed? Humans turn such fascinating colors when they blush. "I said it twice," she mutters. "Can I go now?"

No. That was a joke. It was. This is _Shepard_. She is Liara's _friend_. She—she is enamored with _Kaidan_. And _Thane_. (And possibly the Human Systems Alliance Military).

"Is it really that hard to stop teasing me and simply say what you wanted to say?"

Shepard glowers at her shoulder. "Not everything I say is a joke," she insists.

"Not everything you say is a joke?" Liara asks. Something that feels horribly like hope uncurls in her chest.

Shepard leans forward and hesitantly presses a kiss to the corner of Liara's mouth. The asari jerks away, shocked. She and the commander stare at each other. It occurs to Liara that some of today's flirtations—the flirtations she assumed were attempts to flatter her into not relating what happened at the ear piercing facility—may have actually been sincere.

"Oh, God," Shepard groans. "Oh, no. I mean, I—Sorry. I didn't—Can we just pretend I didn't say… do… anything? I'm sorry, Liara. I'm really, really sorry.

"I—you know what? I should go. Yeah. I'm gonna go." The soldier tries to push herself up, but her side clearly pains her. Not to mention that a stunned Liara is still half-sitting on her. "Liara, please, you gotta move so I can get the hell out of here, please. _Please_."

Why would Liara move, if this is not a joke? "You know that—that I… like you a lot too, Shepard," she reminds the human.

"_Don't_," Shepard interrupts angrily. What? Why? Shepard is perceptive; on some level, she must at least suspect how Liara feels about her. "Please, just… just _don't_," Shepard begs quietly.

Goddess! She doesn't know! And she called Liara dense? The asari would laugh, but Shepard looks so lost. So sad.

Maybe Liara can fix that.

She edges forward. She plants her hands on the door, on either side of Shepard's head, trapping her, just in case. She kisses Shepard.

It is incredibly unsatisfying. Shepard freezes as soon as Liara's mouth moves over hers. On top of that, the woman's habit of biting her lips has made them rough, a disappointment. It occurs to Liara that this might be the cruelest—and the only unintentional—trick the human has ever played. Then the commander's lips part slightly, and Liara takes heart from that improvement. She begins exploring Shepard's mouth with her tongue. Shepard tastes simple. Clean, like rainwater. And if her lips are rough, slightly dry, and ragged, it is because everything else about the human is smooth: the texture of her tongue, the inside of her cheek, her teeth. Liara closes her eyes, trying to savor every sensation. There are so many, all better than anything she has wasted time imagining in the years since Shepard's death. Goddess, it doesn't even matter that Shepard is barely responding, that Liara has to take this kiss instead of share it.

But it does matter. Other species aren't like asari. They are fixated on gender. Though humans can be more fluid than most, Shepard has only ever been interested in males. She claims that it's more than just the obvious differences in their reproductive anatomy. She once told Liara that it has something to do with the shape of a human man's arms, and the way he smells. The way hair grows on his face. Of course, Thane wasn't human, and didn't have hair. Shepard had loved the taut muscles of the drell's chest though—the muscles of his _flat, male_ chest. He was close enough. Closer than an asari, certainly.

Liara tears herself away from Shepard. She keeps her eyes shut to avoid temptation. She keeps her hands on the door, to avoid caressing Shepard's neck, to avoid undoing the woman's hair. "I like you a lot, Shepard," she breathes, fighting the impulse to touch her forehead to the human's. "I really do. I know you already have…I don't want to put more pressure on you, but I, please, promise me that you want this."

Nothing. Silence. Silence that lasts far too long. Not that words are needed. Shepard's attempt to retreat and prolonged refusal to reciprocate Liara's kiss should have been clear indications that she was ashamed. Or disgusted. Liara shifts her weight, prepares to stand, to die of embarrassment.

Hands light tentatively on Liara's face. Hold her in place. "Hey, Broker," Shepard whispers, "I've got some information for you." The asari opens her eyes to a smile she recognizes. Happiness and wonder. "I can handle a lot of pressure."


	40. Lost: Shepard

**Lost: Shepard**

Shepard always wants to be doing something, anything, everything. Nature is meant for mountain climbing, swimming, for rock climbing, cliff diving, for hiking, spelunking, camping, rafting, for _doing_. If you're not running around, you might as well be cooped up on a ship or a space station.

With Liara though, Shepard does quiet things. She researches. She edits mission reports. She sits and talks about nothing. She sits around appreciating nature. She watches Liara doze off in her favorite spot on the Presidium, like a very creepy stalker.

Liara wakes up and they talk about nothing, about their parents, about happiness. Shepard manages. She manages to keep her mouth shut. They stop talking. They sit quietly. Shepard manages.

Liara starts wishing. "I wish we could spend more time together like this. Just… friends."

"I think… we'd be good together, Liara," she blurts. So much for managing.

The asari stares at Shepard, then starts to laugh until she cries. "I wish you had done something embarrassing in front of me sooner! Seriously, Shepard, I have never been flattered and bribed like this before. Not even on Illium, and I was something of a sensation there thanks to you, my friend."

(Shepard hates the word 'friend').

"Next you will try to buy my silence by offering me command of the _Normandy!_" Liara's sense of humor is always a little off, but today she couldn't be further from the mark if she tried. Oh, well. She laughed. She's happy. That's good enough.

The commander can't manage this conversation any longer. Somehow, Shepard manages to slip her shoes on and stand without tearing Traynor's skirt or falling over. "That command won't be mine to bribe you with if I don't get back. Coming?" she asks, offering her friend a hand up, and _not _catching her breath when it is accepted.

**…**

Friends. Just friends. Just… friends. Just. Friends. The universe is sadistic.

Shepard can't stop thinking about how she wasted her chance. Why didn't she explain what she meant? Why did she go along with Liara's mistake?

Shepard is a masochist. It's the only logical explanation. She must love this miserable, confused place. If she had told Liara and gotten laughed at because the asari thinks being with someone with the relative lifespan of a pet, someone who barely finished high school, someone who still deals with her emotions by punching people, is ridiculous, Shepard would have handled that. She would have started putting this whole mess behind her. The way things are, she's going nowhere.

**…**

"Don't interrupt me, because if you do, I'll never finish and if I don't say all this, I'm going to go crazy and if that happens, the Reapers win and we all get eaten."

"Reapers don't eat people, Shepard. You know that."

"You're interrupting me! You're interrupting me just to be a wise-ass!"

"So I shouldn't point out that it hurts my feelings when you assume no one but you can stop the Reapers? I mean, you're not even as good a shot as—"

"You want to talk about eating people? Vakarian, if you don't knock it off, I swear I will let Javik make that fried turian dish he's always talking about."

"Is that actually something he eats?"

The panicked look on her friend's face gives Shepard a perverse feeling of satisfaction. "No," she admits.

"There's something wrong with you," Garrus insists.

"Yeah, my willingness to tolerate insubordination from turians," Shepard agrees. "Can we talk now?"

He reaches across the bar and grabs her glass. "I'm cutting you off. You're a mean drunk."

"I'm not drunk!"

"All the more reason to cut you off before things get really unpleasant." He dumps out both of their drinks, puts all the bottles back, locks up, and sits on the couch.

She stares at him in disbelief. "You're serious?"

"If you're finally going to talk to me about whatever the hell it is that you've been obsessing over since Thessia, you're going to do it sober."

"I haven't been obsessing over anything!"

"Oh please," Garrus scoffs. "You've been miserable. You've been in a bad mood. You've been hiding in your cabin. Whatever you said to Kaidan the last time you talked has him walking around looking like someone just shot his varren. Something is wrong with you, and you're going to tell me what it is, and then we're going to fix it."

She slouches next to him on the couch. This conversation requires alcohol. "It's not important, Garrus," she sighs. "I'll figure it out."

"I hate to be blunt, Shepard, but you couldn't figure your way out of a paper bag. At least not without the help of your most charming friend."

Shepard says nothing.

"Hey," the turian prompts. "This is the part of the conversation where you try to crush me by saying that Liara is your most charming friend. Then you mention how pretty she is and bring up my scars, and I come back with a witty retort, but when I get into my bunk tonight, I cry secret tears." He clears his throat. "Take all the time you need, Shepard. I'm here."

She closes her eyes and tries to ignore the images of Liara her mind immediately conjures. How did this bad soap opera become her life? The humble human, thrust into dramatic circumstances, facing dangerous villains and impossible odds. She sleeps with her noble subordinate officer before a suicide mission, then mysteriously disappears for two years, reappears and takes a tragic assassin to bed before _another _suicide mission, and then, right before the biggest battle of her life, she falls in love with her oblivious—love?

Who said anything about love?

"Just friends," she whispers.

A big hand descends onto her head. "What was that?" Garrus asks. "I can't be sure, because it was so quiet, but it sounded an awful lot like, 'I'm ready to talk about my feelings now, Garrus.'"

Deep breath. "If—if you love someone, how do you get them to stop thinking of you as only a friend?"

"Who are we talking about? Kaidan?"

Shepard shakes her head. "I wish," she sighs, leaning against her Archangel.

"Not Kaidan? That explains what's been bothering _him._" Garrus shifts uncomfortably. "And, uh, whoever you're talking about… they have levo-DNA?"

"Whoa!" She pulls away and makes a face. "Don't flatter yourself, Vakarian! You know I love you, but not like _that_."

"I could have meant anyone with non-levo-DNA. Tali!" Garrus says defensively. "Or EDI! Javik!" Shepard can't help smiling at the undisguised relief on Garrus' face. He smiles back, and puts his arm around her shoulders.

"Well, did you try telling him how you feel? I know it's sort of an unconventional approach, but if you catch him off-guard…"

"Her," Shepard mumbles, burying her face in the turian's shoulder.

"Sorry, were you talking to my shirt or to me?"

The commander forces herself to look Garrus in the eye. She pretends that she isn't blushing. "Her," she repeats. "Not him. Yeah, I told her."

"Oh."

"What, 'oh?'"

"Nothing. I get why you wanted a drink, that's all. But, you know, for, uh, for what it's worth, I, um, think she's missing out on a," Garrus considers Shepard, "halfway decent human." She rolls her eyes at him, and they sit quietly.

"So, how many times has she shot you down?" he asks after a while.

"I didn't even get that far. She thought I was kidding."

"Really? She must know you pretty well, then."

"Not helping."

"Sorry. Talk to her again. Use smaller words. And if that doesn't work, get Liara to help you blackmail—"

Shepard shakes her head.

"Oh, come on," Garrus says. "She wouldn't even be the You-Know-What if it hadn't been for us. What kind of friend is she if she won't—"

Shepard shakes her head.

"See, you're not desperate yet. When she says no—I mean, _if_ she says no, then you'll be begging Liara to dig up everything she can find—"

"Garrus!" Shepard snaps. "Liara can't help with my problem! Liara is my problem!"

"Oh. Oh!" He blinks. Then he grins, mandibles flaring. "Well, then actually, she's probably the best person to go to for help. Like I said, she does owe us. I'll bet that if you explain the situation she'd…"

Shepard glares at the turian. "You are not helpful at all!"

He chuckles. "Want my advice, Shepard? Tell her again."

"But—"

Garrus stands, pulling the commander up after him. "No excuses! Courage! Don't be such a human! Have I ever steered you wrong?"

"No," Shepard admits as he drags her into the hallway.

"See? Trust me. Go talk to her. Right now," he nods. "I'll wait here with alcohol, just in case." He's still talking when the door slides shut. Shepard hears what sounds like, "…took long enough!"

"Well, excuse me for wasting so much of your valuable time," she mutters.

**…**

Liara is wearing some kind of nightgown. White. Longer than the skirt Shepard wore today, but so much harder to look away from. Unfairly tailored. It's probably sleeveless, but the N7 hoodie covers Liara's shoulders and arms, so the commander can't tell. The damn sweatshirt is actually worse than the dress. Just like before, the sight of Liara wearing Shepard's shirt is…she clenches her fists. Shepard has never wanted to tear a piece of clothing off someone this badly.

(Forget that she won't know what to do if she manages to get Liara undressed. Shepard knows what _she_ likes, and she could figure out how to do some of those things, but she's never even considered sleeping with a human woman. What are the chances that an asari… Is she really thinking about sex right now? Romance is dead.)

Oh, God. Is that—Does Liara sleep with a gun? Of course she does. Why would she settle for being tempting when she could be irresistible?

Liara pulls the sweatshirt tighter around her shoulders, and puts a hand over Shepard's mouth before she can voice her lust-induced objection. Good call, T'Soni.

"Are you here because of when you fainted?" What? Oh, right. Shepard didn't just come here to objectify one of her closest friends. "I am not going to tell anyone," Liara sighs. "You may leave, and let me go back to sleep!"

"Actually, I—"

"No. You need to set aside your pranks until tomorrow Shepard!"

Shepard frowns. "Is that really what you think? That I would only come here now to play a prank? Whatever." This was a mistake. "I'm leaving."

Crap. There's enough pain in Shepard's side that standing might require some help. She can't even get her legs under her. Well, there's no way in hell that she's going to ask Liara for a hand up. "How did I screw this up?"

"By constantly behaving like a child!" Liara retorts. "You are an irresponsible jokester, and it is unbelievable that the galaxy has trusted you—"

"_You're_ the only person who thinks I'm always joking!" Saying that is a mistake. Sleep deprivation has unhinged the Shadow Broker. Liara sits on Shepard and refuses to budge until the human gives an example of something serious the asari has taken as a joke. "Tell me!" she insists.

"Get off me!"

"If you want me to move, you'll talk!"

"Nothing to say!"

"Don't test me, Shepard. My patience is wearing thin."

"I—Fine. Remember when I said 'I think we'd be good together?'"

"Something serious, I said!"

"Aren't you supposed to be the smart one? _I think we'd be good together! _ Goddess of oceans, not everything I say is a joke!"

"Not everything you say is a joke?" Any more skeptical, and Liara could be on the Council.

Desperate to be taken seriously, Shepard kisses Liara. She's so nervous that she completely misses the asari's mouth.

Liara instantly jerks away. Shepard hadn't known anyone could move that fast. Or look that traumatized. Talk about rejection. What a disaster. The commander stammers an apology.

A gentle voice breaks through the haze of humiliation. "You know that I like you a lot Shepard," Liara says.

"Please, just _don't_." Shepard can't listen to a speech about how important their friendship is. She wants to leave. Why doesn't Liara just kick her out already?

All at once, the asari's mouth is on Shepard's. Her teeth tug at the human's lower lip. The commander's jaw drops in disbelief, and Liara slips her tongue inside the soldier's open, incredulous mouth. Shepard focuses on staying still, so she doesn't accidentally wake up.

"I don't want to pressure—Shepard, you have to promise me that this isn't a joke," Liara commands as she pulls away. "Promise me that you want this."

Shepard wonders if she missed something. This is Doctor Liara T'Soni: biotic, scientist, and Shadow Broker. She's very important, very smart, very sophisticated, very powerful, and very, very attractive. She just kissed an ordinary human so thoroughly that there were questions about whether breathing is all it's cracked up to be. The idea that _Liara _needs reassurance is laughable.

Liara's eyes are closed. She starts retreating. Chin pulled down, lower lip thrust out, cheeks slightly pinched… something's bothering her. "Right," she whispers. "Stupid."

How many times does Shepard have to say it? It was hard enough the first time. Hesitantly, she touches Liara's cheeks. The asari stops moving away and opens her eyes. That's a good sign, right? Shepard smiles. "I think I could handle a little more pressure like that," she promises.

* * *

**_Author's Note: _**_Sorry for the monster chapter, the cliffhanger from last section, and the terrible title references in this section! Thanks for bearing with me!_


	41. Slow: Shepard

**Slow: Shepard**

"We… don't… have to—oh God—do… this… right… now…" Shepard pants. "If… you're not… sure… no… pressure…." If her body were its own person, it would be doing its best to kill her for trying to put a stop to things. Physically, her only concerns are keeping Liara as close as possible for as long as possible and helping the asari find and undo all the clasps that secure light armor over the human's fatigues. Mentally though, it feels like she's holding her breath, waiting for her body to react to her brain's awareness that Liara isn't even close to male.

"I am sure," Shepard can feel the asari's lips forming the words against her ear. "Aha!" she unfastens a second buckle, and tugs. "Ugh!" Liara leans back in disgust when the plating remains in place. "Why must you wear all this?"

"Regs. 'The light combat shell will be worn outside the shirt and trousers of all on-duty persons serving on an active ship.'" Only after she answers does Shepard realize that the question might have been rhetorical.

"I would make…" Liara places kiss after kiss along the new scar on the commander's cheek, "a joke… about being… on duty… but…" She turns her attention to the other side of the woman's face. "I cannot… seem to… concentrate… long enough…." Her hands slide across Shepard's back, finding and undoing the three small snaps below her shoulder blades.

"Because of this?" Shepard catches Liara's face in her hands and kisses her. "Or this?" She trails light kisses over the place where her fist marked Liara: chin, cheek, jawline. She will never forget where that bruise used to be. She kisses Liara's other cheek. Her eyes. She moves slowly, feeling almost timid, her lips ghosting across the asari's forehead, her nose, and finally back to her mouth.

"Mm." Apparently even the soldier's best efforts are not enough to hush her Shadow Broker. "That's not… Oh! That's not… what I meant… exactly…."

"Sure," she pushes the asari's cheek to turn her head, "about," her fingers run over the ridges of Liara's neck, "that?" her mouth does its best to follow that path.

Blue hands settle on either side of the human's waist and find latches there. "Two more!" She sits up straighter, away from Shepard's touch. "How many fastenings does your armor have?"

"Um… twelve, on the top piece."

"Twelve? I've only found half of them!" The asari looks despondent.

Shepard smiles, folds her hands over the top of Liara's head and kisses the tip of her nose. Grandma Shepard's trick for cheering up unhappy grandbabies. "Watch." With practiced ease, she closes all the clasps Liara unfastened.

"Now," she takes Liara's right hand in hers and guides it to the clasp on the left side of her waist. "One." She moves their hands to the opposite clasp. "Two." The buckle high under her right arm, "Three." Under her left arm, "Four." She puts the asari's hand on the fastener over her breastbone.

"Five," Liara says.

"And done." She puts her hands on her shoulders to lift the plating over her head.

"Let me?"

"Knock yourself out, T'Soni."

The asari pulls off the armor and places it behind her, on top of Shepard's legs. Then she grips the human's grey shirt and yanks it over the woman's head. "By the Goddess!" It takes all of the commander's energy not to laugh at the face Liara makes when she sees Shepard's undershirt. "Does the Alliance also require you to wear more clothing than any other person in the galaxy?"

"'For female service members, the white v-neck undershirt is authorized for wear with service and dress uniforms at the individual's option,'" the soldier recites.

"This was a choice?" Liara sounds disbelieving. "Well then, I choose to let you remove it."

Shepard bites her lip. "Um."

"Um?" The asari leans back. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes. No! Maybe? Oh, God." Shepard wonders how red she's turned. "Liara," she mumbles, "I, um, I don't think that I'm—that I want to—not never, but just not now? I don't usually—at least not on the first—I mean, I know that it's not like this is the first time we've ever spent time together, but I've never—and I know you're not actually female, but I still… And, on top of that, I mean, don't you need to join—and that's even more… I just can't."

"Oh." The single, quiet syllable makes Shepard feel like a monster. Liara tries to push herself off of the commander's lap.

"Wait." The soldier clutches at the N7 hoodie like it's the tether line for a space walk, and uses it to keep the asari in place on top of her. "I promise, Liara, I _want_ to. All I want is to pull off my shirt, and rip—do you even know what looking at you in this sweatshirt does to me? After you throw me through the door, I'm probably going to implode from frustration, but this isn't just—this is more than different, it's _you_, and I don't want to mess it up. Please," she begs. "I'm not a hundred and nine. I haven't—I've never—I need a little time."

Liara stares at Shepard. The soldier stays quiet. She's said so many wrong things already. She forces herself to let go of the sweatshirt, but she doesn't look away from those blue eyes. She won't. She can't. That's the whole problem, really. She's goddamn addicted to this stupid asari, and she wants so badly not to ruin everything that she keeps ruining things.

They're too quiet for too long.

Eventually, Liara does climb off Shepard, but she sits next to the commander. She rests her head on the human's shoulder. She takes the human's hand. "We may not have much time, you know."

"I know."

"But I can wait."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." Liara pauses. "I actually… maybe I should…" She takes a deep breath and stops leaning on Shepard. "Do you remember the visions from the beacon?"

"I wish I could forget."

"Remember how we joined minds so that I could help you interpret the visions?"

"Of course."

"Yes, well." Apparently, it's very important for Liara not to make eye contact with anyone right now. "That was the first time I—I had ever—linked my consciousness to another person's. At all."

"I don't get—" Oh, wait. No. "You're kidding. Tell me this is another one of your bad jokes."

"I am not—What do you mean _my_ bad jokes?"

Shepard needs to—she _is_ sitting. Maybe she should lie down. "Since then, though, you've… you know. Right?" She's never been anyone's first. Never wanted to be—she doesn't want to be Liara's— "_Right?_" All the asari in all the galaxy, and Shepard finds the only one who would rather spend her wild maiden years studying than living the life of a stripper or mercenary.

"Sorry."

How does Shepard always manage to make people she cares about feel terrible? "Don't apologize," she says. "I—it's—I mean—That's not the kind of thing you apologize for. Um. Have you ever," this is so awkward, "uh, y'know. The physical stuff? At all?"

"I realize that it seems old to you, but to my species, one hundred and nine is really not…. No." Liara sighs. She's blushing. "Please say something."

All right. Liara is a virgin. All right. She's so beautiful; it can't be that no one has ever wanted her. Was she waiting? For someone good enough? Does she think Shepard is good enough? The thought is terrifying.

"So… we wait a little. And I do lots of research to make sure I don't disappoint you too badly. Okay?"

Shepard maneuvers their clasped hands so that her fingers are laced through Liara's. This is nice, having someone whose hands fit the right way. Thane's didn't. Kaidan only ever put his hand over hers. All of that is fine, though; she's never really wanted to hold anyone's hand. It's too… intimate.

Liara glances down at their hands and smiles. "Okay."


	42. Memories: Liara

**Memories: Liara**

"We don't have to do this now," Shepard says. Again.

Liara is beginning to tire of being treated like she is made of glass. Given what the commander has told the asari about her past romantic relationships, she never imagined Shepard being anything less than bold in situations such as this. She reminds herself that humans interpret the galaxy through the lens of gender, and that even reaching this point has required much of Shepard.

It does not make it any easier.

"Shepard, I promised to wait. For you." They are lying face-to-face on Liara's bed. "This is not a true melding, but if it is too much—"

"No." The human inches forward, wincing slightly at the pain that still lingers in her left side, and touches her forehead to Liara's. Her face is determined. "Show me."

"All right." Liara breathes deeply and relaxes her tight grip on her mind, seeking out Shepard's thoughts. "Embrace eternity."

**…**

Commander Shepard—no, Liara is supposed to just call her Shepard—Shepard is panting, sweating. "They're going to expect it to be me, so you have to be the one to take the shot, Liara. Just one biotic slam, and this ends."

Liara is so tired. Her shoulders are burning, and if she must run for much longer, her legs will surely give out on her. Breathing has become more of a chore than it rightly should be. Goddess, how does she get herself into messes like this?

"Can you do it?" Shepard's eyes are as intense as electricity; her face is serious.

Not only does Liara owe this human her life, but she has grown fond of the commander these past few weeks on the _Normandy_. Their relationship has developed beyond artificial closeness created by joining their minds to try and decipher Shepard's visions from the Prothean beacon. They spend time together. Converse. Look past each other's imperfections. The soldier seems not to mind when Liara inevitably misconstrues her jokes, and the scientist is more than willing to repeat theoretical explanations when Shepard misses the point the first time.

If the commander needs her, she will not hesitate. "I can do it."

Shepard nods once, curtly. "I'll try to make it easier for you."

"Easier?"

The human smirks and takes off her shirt. "I'll distract Kaidan."

Liara knows she is missing a joke of some sort. They have been playing pyramid against Lieutenant Alenko and Chief Williams for at least an hour. The match is tied, and they have entered into 'sudden death.' All three humans are sweating heavily. Chief Williams already discarded her shirt. Why would the commander's following suit be distracting? Humans are confusing.

Pyramid is fast. Rough, intense. There is little elegance to it. Using biotics complicates the play in unpredictable ways. No wonder humanity likes it.

Watching Chief Williams and Shepard shove, block, and insult each other, Liara is profoundly grateful that her biotic abilities pit her against Lieutenant Alenko. The ball flies between teams, between teammates, off biotic barriers, off the metal panels put up around the court. Liara edges towards a free zone, preparing to take a shot. The other team has the ball, but she is confident that Shepard will reclaim it.

The commander tackles Chief Williams, stealing the ball. She takes three quick steps. "Hey!" Liara and Lieutenant Alenko turn at her shout. The ball rockets towards the asari, and before the lieutenant looks away from Shepard, Liara redirects it through the goal with her biotics.

"Yes!" Shepard runs across the court and hugs Liara, lifting her taller teammate in the air and spinning the two of them around. "T'Soni, I love you!" Staring down at the grinning human in surprise, she realizes there is a bright ring of green in Shepard's dark eyes. When her feet touch the ground again, the asari is dizzy.

The commander points tauntingly at Chief Williams. "I warned you, but did you listen? Say it!" she orders.

The other woman sighs. "You own me," she sounds insincere.

"You own me…?"

The chief scowls. "_Ma'am_."

"Now, get all this stuff squared away, _losers_." Shepard grabs her shirt from the floor and pulls it over her head. "The winners are gonna shower and rest up before we hit Virmire. C'mon, Liara."

Liara's head stops spinning as soon as the commander is fully dressed. Abruptly, she understands how a shirtless Shepard could distract someone.

**…**

Shepard's forehead still touches Liara's. She is breathing, but her eyes are closed. Liara is terrified that she somehow broke the human.

"Shepard?" She strokes the soldier's cheek. "Are you—was that all right?"

"Was that what I think it was?"

"What did you think it was?"

The commander opens her eyes. "It looked like you've just let me stumble around like an idiot for three years. Since before Virmire?" she says. "Why didn't you ever—"

Liara kisses her. "It was not the right time for us."

"Would you believe that was the last time I played pyramid? I didn't realize until just now."

"When this is over, you will play again. Maybe I will even play with you."

"We were a good team."

"We _are_ a good team."

"Yeah." Shepard puts her hand over Liara's and smiles shyly. Liara hadn't known she could look shy. "I—Is it my turn to share with you?"

"If you would like."

"It's not like yours was. Not nice or anything. And I don't want to talk about it." Her eyes are pleading. "We don't have to…"

"Show me."

**…**

The sun shines into her eyes too brightly. Why are they outside? The city hall is still intact; they could have had the ceremony there. Here, this ruined plaza, they don't have to be here. It's a waste. This whole day has been a waste. Too long. Something put together for politicians and civilians, not anyone who really matters.

_ "When. We. Get. Out. Of. Here." Shepard chokes each word out between bursts of rifle fire. "You. Are. Buying. A. New. Fucking. Omni-tool." She ducks behind the car to give her gun a chance to cool down. _

_ Liv laughs as she jumps up to take Shepard's place. "Yeah, yeah. Cry me a river, Shep."_

_ "If you weren't so goddamn cheap, we would be safe at base camp with the others right now."_

_ "Just think how great this story is going to sound at N-school!"_

Liv…. Shepard concentrates on not staring at the place where her best friend in the world drowned in her own blood. If only she had biotics, or more training in field medicine classes, or had thought to pack medigel in her rucksack, or if the goddamn batarians had just let up for a moment, Shepard could have found a way to save Liv.

All the speeches run together, but when her CO elbows Shepard, she realizes that they're getting to the part in the ceremony that requires her presence.

"…be renamed Shepard Plaza, as a thank you and a monument to the remarkable young woman who single-handedly…"

Remarkable? Single-handedly? If Big Shepard wasn't sitting on this stage, if Shepard hadn't been trained from birth to sit rigidly upright like a proper soldier, she would slump and try to hide. Cry.

_ "Shep." It's good that Liv sounds so normal. She sounds fine, she'll be fine. "Shep, you idiot, the batarians. I'll get the medkit."_

_ "No, no, I'll do it, Liv, I'll—"_

_ "If you… patch me up… 'n batarian kills me anyway…"_

_ Oh. "Okay." She rips her pack open and drops it in her friend's lap. "You fix you. I'll kill those bastards."_

_ Her gun overheats too soon. There's no one to cover her while it recharges…._

_ Someone tugs on the gun. "Take this, Shep, you jackass." Liv hands a bloody assault rifle to her friend._

The plaza should be named Ylva Sørenson Memorial Plaza. If it hadn't been for Liv's broken omni-tool, they would have been on the mountain at first light, far away from this stupid city and all its citizens that needed defending. Someone else would have stepped up to save the colony, and Shepard would have a holo of the old gang from basic training on top of Mount Homer together, sharing that tiny bottle of champagne Corey had been so excited about.

Someone says Shepard's name and her CO elbows her again. She stands, remembers not to straighten her coat, and walks to the podium with quick, clean steps. Efficient and emotionless. Like a mech. She shakes hands with the politicians. Salutes Admiral Grissom… where did they manage to dig the old fossil up from? Salutes Big Shepard, and stands still as her mother pins that stupid medal on her.

"It looks good on you. My hero," Mom teases, tries to make Shepard smile.

"You're my hero, Mom. You and Liv."

_ "My… dad…. Won't remember to… his meds… on his own…. So. You. Gotta. Remind. Him. For. Me. Shep. Always… set an alarm. On my omni-tool."_

_ "God, Liv! Your crap omni-tool is what got us in the damn mess! Why didn't you just spring for a new one! You stupid, stupid asshole! We could've been on the mountain by now!" Shepard can't see straight with tears in her eyes. _

_ "Love… you too."_

Even though it's not in the ceremony, and they didn't get permission for it at the rehearsal, Big Shepard hugs her daughter. Over her mother's shoulder, Shepard sees Grissom glaring, and the politicians beaming. All the news cameras zoom in and catch the sparkle of tears in Captain Shepard's eyes. It's a big hit with the civilians.

She doesn't want to let go, but she does. Salutes her mother and Grissom, shakes hands with all the politicians again, about-faces parade style so that humanity can look at her for the last time. Sits in her chair. Tries not to think about Liv. Her family must hate Shepard for being here in the sun, in her dress blues, with the only silver medal that the Alliance awards pinned to her chest like she's done something to be proud of.

_ She can't hear Liv's agonizing breaths anymore. She can't see anyone moving towards her. "Liv?" Shepard glances down. Liv's face is covered in blood. How did she get blood on her face? Why isn't she breathing? "Liv?" _

_ Something on the field moves. Shepard shoots it. Her vision is clear. Batarian corpses are piled deep, but there's no one else alive out there. She can hear gunfire in distant places. The outline of Alliance fighters pass overhead. Shepard drops her gun and pulls Liv into her lap. She presses her head against her friend's chest, and begs… whatever might be out there to bring back the sound of that heart. _

**…**

Liara feels a hand on her cheek. "I hate it when you cry," Shepard whispers. "Don't ever cry for me."

"I remember how angry you were when I asked you about the Blitz."

"You thought I was a hero. I'm not—I let her die."

"You saved Elysium."

"I'd rather have Liv."

Liara brings the hand on her cheek to her lips. "That is what makes you a hero."

Shepard slides over on the bed and turns her back to Liara. Nestles against her. "You're never allowed to die," she says.

"That sounds like an order, Commander," the asari teases, wrapping her arms around the woman's waist.

"It is an order." The human sounds as though she is half-asleep. "Don't ever die, Liara."

"I will do my best," she promises.

She feels tension ebb from Shepard's body. "Good."


	43. Sweet: Liara

**Sweet: Liara**

When Liara wakes up, the blankets on the other side of her bed are pristine, as though falling asleep with her arms around Shepard was only a dream. The human is gone, as are her boots, her 'light combat shell,' and her clothes. Liara reaches a hand down to find that her emergency pistol has been replaced. The unsurprising discovery makes the asari smile. Despite her flippant, casual personality, the commander is fastidiously tidy. It must have driven her half-mad to leave things scattered on the floor last night, to have been unable to fold her fatigues.

"Good morning, Dr. T'Soni." Glyph hovers on the other side of the drawn curtains that separate her 'living space' from the rest of the cabin.

She gets out of bed and pushes the hangings aside. "Good morning, Glyph." For a moment, Liara stares longingly at the bathroom before reminding herself that checking her information feeds is more important than showering. At least for a few minutes.

**...**

The sound of the door sliding open makes no impression on the Shadow Broker, although her VI rushes away to greet the newcomer.

"Greetings, Commander Shepard."

"Quiet!" the soldier hisses. "What did I say about letting her sleep?"

"Dr. T'Soni has been awake for several hours," Glyph responds smugly.

That gets Liara's attention. "Several hours?" She looks up, surprised at how tired her eyes feel. It is so irritating to lose track of time. It used to happen to her all the time, when she was a student, or on Illium. No matter what she intended, she often got so caught up in what she was doing that after beginning work, she would glance up only to realize that the entire day had passed. On the _Normandy_, where she is required to adhere to the Alliance's strict military schedule, Liara is supposed to pay attention to the passage of time. She is supposed to notice when she misses a meal.

Blinking dazedly, Liara cranes her head to glance out the window, and realizes that she can see stars. A faint hum of machinery tells her the ship is in motion.

"You just got up and went straight to work? Do you ever take a break?" It is ironic to hear this from the woman dressed in full armor. Shepard raises an eyebrow at the asari and leans against the wall. "Here." She presses one of the two mugs she is carrying Liara's hand. "Careful, it's hot."

"Thank you." She takes a sip of the mild, inexpensive Thessian tea stocked in the _Normandy's _kitchenette. The sweet taste almost gags her. Poor Shepard added the improper flavoring to the drink.

"It's wrong, isn't it?" The human bites her lip and narrows her eyes. "Give me that." They exchange mugs. Although the quality of the tea remains the same, the absence of excess sweetener greatly improves it. "Better?" she smirks.

"Much."

"Good."

Shepard drinks from the abandoned mug. "Hm. I would've pegged you for a fan of sweet. No?"

Liara shakes her head.

"I'll remember that." She takes a few more sips and frowns. "I don't want to waste this, but if I finish it now, I just know I'm going to have to go to the bathroom the minute Cortez drops us off."

"You have gotten orders? Do you need me to come with you?"

The commander shrugs. "Cerberus is attacking a comm facility on Ontarom. Someone's gotta stop them. No worries though, you're good. Garrus and Prothy—uh, Javik, are already waiting for me in the cargo hold. And Kaidan's outside waiting for me to give him last-minute orders. Not that I really have any…."

"You made him wait in the hall for you?"

"Is that a trick question?" The human puts her mug down on the desk. "Of course I left Kaidan in the hall. If I hadn't," she takes Liara's mug, "I couldn't do this." Grinning, Shepard leans down and kisses Liara with unhurried determination, as though nothing in the galaxy could ever be more important.

When the soldier releases Liara, the expression on her face is uncertain, as though she thinks she should have asked permission before launching her tactical assault. The asari smiles and tilts her head back a little, offering better access to her neck. With a quiet, pleased noise, Shepard's lips blaze a trail from Liara's pulse point to the hollow at the base of her neck.

The commander almost never devotes herself to a single task completely; she rarely has the time, let alone the inclination. The fact that someone so consistently distracted could achieve everything that she has is incredible. But not as incredible as being the sole object of Shepard's attention. Liara feels like an artifact at a dig site, being slowly but inexorably exposed to eyes that will determine her worth and significance.

"Kaidan's waiting," she gulps, every bit the coward. Too often, excavation results in disappointment. What if Shepard decides Liara was not worth her investment?

"What?" The commander nudges the N7 sweatshirt aside, and begins to kiss the newly exposed skin of the asari's left shoulder.

"Kaidan," Liara tries to remind her again. "Ontarom."

"Don't… care."

"Shepard."

The human sighs. "Fine." She smiles in surprise when Liara steals a last kiss before she can stand. "Later, T'Soni."

Liara puts a hand over her mouth and smiles as Shepard walks backwards out of the room. To have impossible dreams suddenly come true is a little overwhelming.


	44. Careless: Shepard

**Careless: Shepard**

"Ah, 'scuze me. I need to get in there." Javik is planted in front of her gun locker. Rather than move, he sniffs the air contemptuously and stares disapprovingly at her.

"Good," he says. For some reason, Shepard doesn't think that he approves of her need for weaponry. "You finally got it over with. The two of you are unforgivably obtuse. Waiting for you to admit that you are joined has been most irritating."

Shepard can imagine what her face must look like. Horrified doesn't even begin to describe it. What happened to the Prothean's unofficial vow of silence? The one where he doesn't talk to people he has contempt for, like Shepard? "I don't know what you're—"

(Garrus brushes past her, heading for the Kodiak. He is doing a terrible job of smothering his laughter. She glares after him. This is all his fault. Stupid turian. Just for this, they will save Palavan last.)

"Do not insult me!" Javik interrupts. "It is all over you. I am glad, but only because your pheromones were becoming even more obnoxious than his are," he gestures at where Kaidan is hovering in the background.

Shepard makes a note to email Kasumi and ask her about that invisibility trick.

The Prothean glares at Shepard for a few extra seconds before adding, "It will be interesting to see whether this resolution makes the two of you more or less effective in battle. It is my prediction that this foolishness will result in your dying long before the Reapers are defeated." Shepard is too mortified to point out that he's been making that prediction since they got him out of his stasis pod.

After lingering in front of the locker to reinforce how little her initial request mattered to him, Javik stalks onto the Kodiak.

She takes as long as she can, pretending that only in-depth investigation will reveal which case holds her assault rifle and which one has the N7 Eagle she wants, but it doesn't matter. Kaidan is still there when she finally peers out.

He smiles as soon as their eyes meet. "What was that all about?" he asks. His voice is deceptively normal, but even someone who didn't know Kaidan as well as Shepard does would be able to see the stiff set of his jaw and the narrowing of his eyes.

"No idea," she shrugs. "I'm pretty sure Prothy pulls half of what he says out of his ass. You know, throw enough 'your pheromones are telling me' nonsense at the wall and see what he can get you to admit—"

"That sounded pretty specific to me." He's not going to let this go, is he?

"Wait until you've been a Spectre a little longer, Alenko—"

"Don't give me that, Shepard!" This is bad. Even calling her a traitor on Horizon, Kaidan never raised his voice. "After everything—If there's someone else, I want to know. You owe me that."

He's definitely not going to let this go. Shepard has to handle this.

She squares her shoulders. Imitates the way Big Shepard looks down her nose at mutineers and rebellious teenagers. "You're out of line, Major!" she snaps. "You might be the _Normandy's _XO, but I am her commanding officer! No matter what kind of history we have, you do _not _get to make demands of me." Kaidan looks furious, but he says nothing.

"But," the commander continues, still icy, but not as harshly, "we're friends, and I don't want things to be… weird. Just hold on, all right? We'll talk after I get back."

His nod is professional, but his gaze is possessive.

**…**

She's alive. She can feel pain, so she must be alive. She can't focus her eyes, and breathing hurts, but at least she can breathe. It's when you can't breathe that there's a problem. That's something she knows.

The noises she's hearing sound about right for the medbay, so Shepard concentrates on remembering what happened. Where's the pain? Left side. Just under the ribs. _Swords_, she thinks. _Bullets._ _Thane._ The bullets were first, taking down her barriers, and then a woman, a Cerberus woman with a sword….

"Who even uses swords anymore?" she grumbles.

"Dr. Chakwas, I think she's waking up!"

"You had us worried there, Shepard."

Shepard puts a hand to her head. Déjà vu. Was all this a dream? If she opens her eyes, will she see the SR-1? Will Captain Anderson come in to debrief her on losing the Prothean beacon? Is Ashley in the mess, alive and feeling guilty for taking Jenkins' place? Has no one ever questioned Shepard's patriotism? Is life simple and wonderful and safe?

(Did she imagine Garrus, her best friend? Did she imagine having krogan call her 'sister?' Bringing the rachni back from the dead? The Reapers? Travelling beyond the Omega-4 relay and surviving? Rescuing an insane scientist from batarian prison? Did she imagine helping Liara become the Shadow Broker? Is Liara even real?)

What's better, trying to fall back asleep, or opening her eyes and risking that everything was just a dream?

It doesn't matter. When she opens her eyes, and tries to sit up, she sees the SR-2. And Kaidan. He smiles at her, looking relieved. All she feels is disappointed. Irritated at herself, she glances out the window as she lies back down.

A familiar pair of blue eyes stare back from the other side of the glass. Before Shepard has time to decide whether she's grateful or resentful that Liara is keeping her distance, the asari walks through the medbay door. She takes a moment to acknowledge Kaidan and Chakwas, but she doesn't stop moving until she is standing next to Shepard's bed, one hand covering the human's, the other trailing through her hair.

"How are you feeling?"

The soldier smiles. "Mm. Better now."

"I was worried."

"Don't be," Shepard tries to sound confident. She needs to erase that worried line between Liara's eyes. "There's no way I'm gonna die before I get you in bed."

"So when you said you wanted to wait, you were really just attempting to gain immortality?"

The commander laughs in spite of the pain and the awareness that this is an unnecessarily cruel way to break the news to Kaidan. "What do I get if I say no?"

The asari doesn't even blush when she answers, "Me."

* * *

_**Author's Note: **As always, my thanks to those of you who review and/or read. (Why has no one pointed out to me before now that 'review and/or read' makes more sense than 'read and/or review?')_

_Apologies for the abbreviated chapters. I was planning on putting a bit more in each one originally, but then they would have been overlong. Hopefully the next ones will be up quickly enough that it doesn't matter?_


	45. Confession: Shepard

_This story is rated T, but following the MPAA guidelines, this chapter is a bit more on the 'M' side, due to the language many adults use when they yell at each other._

**Confession: Shepard**

Shepard squeezes Liara's hand and pushes herself into the early stages of a sitting position, raising an eyebrow invitingly. An exasperated smile eases the crease between Liara's eyes. The hand she tangled in Shepard's hair moves to the human's face. One finger traces the path of a remembered scar on the commander's jaw, before sliding under her chin and tilting her face up. The calloused pad of a thumb brushes Shepard's lips, and she gets the kiss she was hoping for.

Selfishness shouldn't always work out so well.

A muffled, strangled sort of noise from somewhere unimportant, some place Liara isn't, is enough to make the asari break away. Shepard remembers the medbay, and stops herself from chasing after Liara's retreating mouth. Self-disgust slams into her chest. She swears that the kiss was the last heartless thing she will do to Kaidan for at least a solar cycle.

Shepard loves the way Dr. Chakwas practices medicine as though nothing else matters. The only sign that the doctor has noticed any tension is that when she takes Liara by the shoulders and moves her away from Shepard's bedside, she positions the asari as far from Kaidan as possible.

"Let's get you up so I can take a proper look at you," she says, pushing buttons so the bed props the commander in a sitting position. She pulls Shepard's shoulders forward and examines her back. "I think it would be best if everyone left," she frowns. "For privacy."

"I don't mind if they stay," the commander protests. "Nothing we haven't all seen before."

Kaidan flinches and scowls darkly at Liara before schooling his face back to a tense sort of disinterest. The information broker ignores him, leaning nonchalantly against a desk like the asari version of Miranda Lawson.

"You may not mind, Commander," Chakwas darkens the windows, "but as the sole medical officer on this ship, I'll dictate how this medbay runs. Therefore, everyone who did not use the girls' locker room to change for high school physical education classes will kindly leave now." Under the doctor's unnervingly stern gaze, both Kaidan and Liara exit. Silently.

"You're going to need stitches," Dr. Chakwas explains. "The entry wound is bleeding again. Medigel isn't holding. Knowing how you crumble when faced with needles, I thought I'd spare your dignity." She unwraps the bandages that swathe Shepard's torso and wipes the wound with something that stings. "Hold still, dear."

"'Dear?'" the younger woman grumbles. "Funny how nice you get when you have the chance to stick me with—Oh, shit." She closes her eyes and grits her teeth as a needle slides into her back.

When she finishes her horrible stitches, the older woman smears medigel over the wound and wraps it in fresh bandages. "As long as you stay in bed for a day or two, you should be all right. You'll have a wonderful scar on your back."

"You sound like Wrex." Shepard pulls on the stupid hospital gown. "Send in Kaidan, would you?"

Chakwas hesitates. "Shepard. I don't want to overstep my bounds, but—" Is she _blushing?_ "I'm happy for you. Liara has always been good for you. A… steadying influence. Not to mention that she's a doctor."

That makes Shepard laugh. "Thanks." The word falls gruffly out of her throat, almost like a cough, but the doctor smiles and kisses the soldier's forehead.

"Of course, my dear."

**…**

"Glad to see you're okay."

"Are you?"

"It wouldn't be good for the Alliance's alliances if you died."

"'Alliance's alliances.'" Shepard chuckles.

Halfway across the room, Kaidan doesn't. "Liara?" he says. "_Liara?_" His voice sounds raw, not just harsh. "Are you fucking kidding me?" The major's eyes once convinced Shepard that brown is the warmest of all colors. The friendliest. Now though, now the way he looks at her makes her think that his eyes are ice.

"How long have you been sleeping with her? Since Horizon? Before that? I remember you two having long 'talks' on the first _Normandy…._" Kaidan puts a hand on his head, and the commander has to crush the urge to ask if he has a headache. "I—The night before Ilos, you didn't want me to stay—I—Oh, God—I was the opening act. I was the fucking appetizer!" He looks like he's going to be sick.

If she had something to throw at him, Kaidan's stupid nose would be broken right now. "I'm not even going to dignify that with a response. You're better than this."

"Am I? You can't think too highly of me if you've been going around behind my back with every vaguely human-shaped alien that falls into your lap. Or do you fall into their laps? I remember you being pretty pushy…."

"Grow up, you jackass." Shepard hates how calm and sad she sounds. She wants to yell!

"You grow up! I love you Shepard, and you keep throwing me over. For what? What's so special about Liara? What was so great about Krios? Why aren't I enough?"

She shakes her head. "You don't get it. We were never together the way you think. _I never wanted you_. Not like you wanted me. Sex with you was nice for a few weeks, but all this fallout—not worth it. If I could go back, I'd remember that even on a suicide mission, the regs are more important than fucking your cute lieutenant."

"You're a bitch." Kaidan says quietly. "You may be the greatest soldier I've ever served with, and you may be the galaxy's best hope for defeating the Reapers, but God help me, Shepard, you are the coldest fucking bitch I've ever met.

"You know what? I don't even care how long you've been sleeping with Liara. I just feel sorry for her. Because one day, she's going to have to face the fact that everything about you that she thought she loved is really just a pathetic fantasy."

"Fuck you! The truth is that you only ever wanted the fantasy! Everyone only wants the fantasy of Commander Shepard and her magic ability to come back from the dead and kill Reapers like she's something fucking special! You called me a _traitor_—you obviously never knew me at all! Do you even know what my favorite color is?"

"I suppose that Liara is the first person to want the 'real' you? Can you hear yourself, Shepard? Could you sound any more pathetic?"

"Could you sound like any more of a little bitch? I don't love you. I never loved you. I'm never going to love you. Get the fuck over it!"

"I broke the regs to be with you," he rasps. "The regs. I know I'm not _you_, I'm not a Shepard who lives, breathes, and shits the Alliance, but my career, that means something to me. Something important. I thought you were worth more than that." He's sneering. She's never seen him sneer. "Talk about stupid."

Shepard bites her lip, trying to think of the right way to say it. "You're too old for me, Kaidan. We both know that. You're serious, and mature, and someday you're going to leave the Alliance and do great things, civilian things, and you're going to get married, and have serious, mature children with the most beautiful brown eyes in the galaxy. You're going to have an amazing life. Just not with me. No matter how much I might've wanted it, it was never going to happen."

Kaidan runs a hand through his hair in frustration and says, "Couldn't you… try? To love me? I know those feelings were real. They _were_." To Shepard's surprise, she feels as though a hand is squeezing her heart. Even if she never loved Kaidan, he's right. There was something there, once. Something she thought might be important enough to break the regs for.

"You said it yourself," he's not begging, Kaidan is too self-possessed to ever beg, but there's a desperate note in his voice that reminds the commander just how horrible she is. "You _want_ to be in love with me. Can't you just, I don't know, ignore… anything else?"

"Kai—" She can't say his name. She knows that she'll say it in that quiet tone that makes people smile at her. Makes them believe she cares in that way she never does. "I wish that I wanted you. I want to want to have your serious little kids so badly. More than anyone, you could make the picket fence work for me. But I was born to carry a gun and talk krogan into hugging turians, and talk quarians into moving in with geth. Maybe climb mountains and get drunk in my free time. Not for a real family. Not for a life with a nice guy like you."

"What about with a nice asari like Liara?" It's clear from his face that it's killing him to ask the question.

"Not with her, either." She can't imagine sharing a real life with Liara. If Kaidan is too old for Shepard, Shepard is too old for Liara. Shepard wants to adopt her little cousin, and drag the girl around on Alliance ships, and she'd kill to drag Liara around too. But Shepard's probably going to die in this war. Even if she doesn't, Liara is the asari version of a twenty-something, and she's never going to want something serious like that. Not during Shepard's lifetime.

"Do you love her?" The question is quiet. Calm. A surprisingly unwelcome change from the angry words that have been flying across the room like bullets.

"I don't have to answer that."

"Yeah, you do. You owe me that much. You don't love me, fine. But I deserve to know if it's just me you don't love or if you can't love anyone."

She lies back on the bed and looks away. "I've never wanted anything as much as I want her," she admits. "I'd do anything for her. Do anything to have her. Stupid. She makes me so stupid that I don't care what color she is or, what shape, or how old, or that she's going to leave me someday.

"I'm sorry, Kaidan." To her surprise, Shepard realizes that she means it. "I hate this. I hate hurting you." She wanted to love Kaidan, wanted him to love her, wanted them to fit together the way people are supposed to. That way that's more than just bodies and touching.

"That's sweet," she can hear the sneer in his voice. "Well, I hope things work out for you two crazy kids. Knowing you though, I'm not holding my breath."

The door closes as quietly as it always does, but for some reason, it feels like Kaidan has slammed it.

**…**

"Hey!" Shepard smiles in surprise when Liara returns to the medbay. "I figured you'd be off information brokering for the rest of the day. Wanna sit?" She shifts over to make room in the bed.

"It would be wrong to take advantage of you in your weakened state."

"It's not taking advantage if I want you to do it."

"That is a good point." Liara settles into the offered spot and touches her forehead to Shepard's. "Hello."

"I'm doing my reputation irreparable damage by admitting this," the commander leans into the asari for a moment before settling back against the pillows, "but I missed you." Exposing herself as unforgivably sentimental is worthwhile once Liara's eyes narrow in that odd way that means she's happy.

A thought occurs to Shepard. "You, uh, didn't bump into Kaidan at all, did you? I, um. He's pretty mad at me—"

"He is pretty _angry_ with you," Liara corrects.

"Know-it-all," Shepard grumbles. "He's pretty _mad_ at me, and he might bite your head off if he bumps into you. At least for a day or two. He'll be all right though. I think. We weren't right for each other. Eventually he'll remember that. He'll remember I'm not good enough for him."

Liara frowns. "But you are good enough for me?"

The soldier doesn't hide her grin. She was expecting that question; her answer is on the tip of her tongue, though it takes a surprising amount of effort to dislodge it. "How many times have I t-told you, T'Soni: no one's good enough for you."


	46. Acceptance: Liara

**Acceptance: Liara**

The door has barely closed behind them—how undignified; to be ejected from the medbay—before Kaidan turns on her. His gaze is furious. His words hurtle towards Liara like stinging insects.

"_Dr. T'Soni_," he spits. "Sweet, shy little Dr. T'Soni. The woman who'd never even had coffee before. Who could barely look any of us scary marines in the eyes. Who couldn't get a sentence out without blushing and having to start over at least twice. Who got sent on snipe hunts all over the _Normandy_ until I realized what was going on and made the grunts knock it off.

"My _friend. _Some friend you turned out to be, huh?"

The detached, scientific portions of Liara's mind find it fascinating that the emotions Kaidan is expressing are able to turn his attractive face into something so ugly.

"Everyone knows you've been hot for Shepard since she pulled your sorry ass off of Therum. I always thought that it was weird Shepard hadn't picked up on it, but I guess she's really just an _amazing_ liar. I remember her asking me if I had a thing for _you! _ No better way to keep a guy from being suspicious then pretending to be jealous of him, I guess. Hey, tell me something. All those times you tried to 'interpret her visions…' how much of that was just the two of you mind-fucking in front of the rest of—"

"Stop."

"—the ground team? God, you and Shepard must have had a good laugh the other night. Remember? When you found me trying to drown all my feelings in the stupid fucking bottle of alcohol that Shepard bought me? When you _comforted_ me? Did you go back up to her cabin and laugh about Kaidan, that dumb bastard, right before the two of you climbed into bed for the night? Did you turn in early, or did you—"

"Major Alenko," Liara pretends that she is her mother. Above the insults directed at her, unbothered by them. "For the sake of our friendship, and out of respect for your feelings, I am willing to ignore what you have said to me. I understand that you are upset, but I will not give you license to abuse me in this way." She was never as weak as Kaidan seems to remember her being. If he continues to attack her, she will correct him.

"Hate to break it to you, _doctor_, but I don't need your permission—"

"What you need is a slap in the face! You idiot," Liara hisses. "I never intended for any of this to happen!"

Kaidan takes half a step towards Liara, his hands balled into fists. "So, back there, the whole 'I'm yours,' and sticking your tongue down Shepard's throat, that was what? An accident?"

"You know what I mean! I never planned to say anything to her—if she hadn't—It was supposed to be _you_ with her! And it might have been if you hadn't called her a traitor—She is loyal and honest. If you had given her hope—"

"Lucky that you were there to pick up the pieces!"

"No. I was not there for her. Garrus was. And Joker."

"Joker. You want to know what a real friend is? _He_ emailed me after Horizon. He told me that I was going to lose her if I didn't say something."

"I _know_. Did you think he realized that on his own?"

"I'm supposed to believe that you told him to email me?"

"I do not care what you believe."

"I'm supposed to believe that you've got so much self-restraint that even though you wanted Shepard for yourself, you wanted me to make up with her?"

"I wanted—I want her to be happy. Who she is happy with was never as important."

"Bullshit."

"Suit yourself." Liara is done with this conversation. "Perhaps when you are in a more rational state of mind, we can speak again."

"Hold up!" Kaidan grabs Liara's arm, only to release it when her biotics flare and shock him.

"Do _not_ touch me."

"I—sorry." Shame makes him look like himself again. "Did you mean that? About being willing to let her go? If I could talk her into taking me back—You—" he looks as though the words might choke him, "You love her that much?"

Liara tilts her head to the side as she considers his motivation. Shepard has been capricious in the past, but she would not—They have only just begun—Last night, this morning, and even just now, the commander said…. She shakes her head. What might or might not happen is unimportant.

"Do you really feel like that?" Kaidan asks again.

"You have met Shepard," she replies. "How could I feel otherwise?"

**…**

Liara is ashamed of herself. She should have more faith in Shepard.

After Dr. Chakwas came out of the medbay and said that Shepard wanted to speak with Kaidan privately, Liara began wandering across the _Normandy_. She really should be working, but she cannot get Kaidan's words out of her head. _If I could talk her into taking me back…_

Interactions with the crew have not been a useful distraction. Liara knows that she has grown somewhat suspicious since becoming an information broker. Her paranoia has been no small source of amusement to Shepard. Today though, she is certain that she is not imagining the odd looks from the _Normandy_ crew. To be fair, some of the humans are very obvious, like Engineer Donnelly, who stared and elbowed Engineer Daniels when he saw Liara emerge from the hall outside the medbay. Others are more subtle, like Samantha, who merely regarded Liara with barely-restrained curiosity when she thought the asari's attention was fixated on a datapad.

"EDI, have you noticed anything strange about the way the crew is behaving today?" Liara asks as she walks into the cockpit and stands between the pilot and the AI.

"Are you referring to something in specific?" EDI does not look away from the display monitor in front of her. That is suspicious. She does not need to 'see' anything, and she has expressed an interest in what she terms 'the widespread organic custom of maintaining eye contact during conversation.' "I have not noticed anything."

"What, not even a hello for your favoritest human on the bridge?" Joker pipes up. "I mean, I know I'm no Shepard, but—"

"Like that!" The human grins when Liara interrupts him. "Everyone I talk to is working the commander into conversation today!"

"I do not understand how asking you for information about Commander Shepard is at all illogical. You are friends with the commander, are you not?"

"_Garrus_ asked me about Shepard just now. The two of them are closer than—"

"Aw, don't sell yourself short, Liara," Joker says. "I'm sure that Shepard hasn't let Garrus get as close to her as she's let you—" Liara and EDI both turn their heads to stare at him. "Oops. See, this is why you can't tell me anything!" he points at his copilot. "You shouldn't have told me anything!"

Liara's suspicions grow more intense. She narrows her eyes and glares at EDI. "What shouldn't you have told Jeff?"

"That early this morning the commander resolved to vocalize her romantic attachment to you. I have the audio log of her conversation with Garrus, if you would be interested in hearing it." Shepard's voice begins to sound through the room, saying something inaccurate about how the Reapers are going to eat everyone.

"No need." Liara is not blushing. "I suppose it is safe to assume that you told most of the crew about this?" The AI nods.

"You had the audio logs of Shepard's relationship woes and you didn't play it for me? EDI, what the hell?" Joker tosses his hands up in frustration. "How could you hold out on me like that?"

"The information was not intended for you, Jeff."

"Yeah, well, it wasn't intended for you either, but that didn't stop you from recording it."

"Both Shepard and Garrus know that I monitor public areas on the _Normandy_. If they had wished their conversation to remain private, they would have requested that the starboard observation deck be placed into privacy mode."

"Sure, EDI. Whatever helps you sleep at night." Joker rolls his eyes. "I still can't believe you didn't tell me. Women," he turns a commiserating face to Liara before seeming to think better of it, "keeping secrets. Typical." He does not notice the way EDI smiles when he calls her a woman.

"Hey, so you wouldn't tell me, but it was fine to play that for Liara?"

"The conversation concerned her. And I was curious as to whether Shepard actually followed through with her intentions."

"Oh, good point!" Joker stares at Liara expectantly. "So? Did she fess up? I want to hear it from the horse's mouth! Spill."

"We had a conversation about the precise nature of our friendship last night," Liara concedes finally.

"Followed by a reenactment of 'Vaenia,' right?" He waggles his eyebrows and smirks. "Right?"

"Actually," EDI says, "the crew's reactions to this information have raised some questions for me about the asari bonding process—"

"Wait, Liara, don't listen to her. I've got a bet going with Vega, and you could settle it for us once and for all. Don't know why I didn't think to ask you before, actually…."

This conversation is not happening.

**…**

Given the nature of Joker's questions, and EDI's insatiable curiosity, Liara is actually relieved when Kaidan's arrival in the cockpit brings all questions to a halt. She is even more relieved when he glares at her. She was right to place her faith in Shepard, it would seem.

"Hey… man," the awkward, sympathetic tone of Joker's voice does nothing to alleviate the tension. "What's up?"

"Nothing much." Kaidan's voice sounds hoarse, not just rough. Knowing what sort of conversation he has likely been having with Shepard, Liara is surprised he is still able to speak at all.

An alert goes off on Liara's omni-tool. An excuse to look at anything besides the dark-haired man radiating dejection and fury is welcome. As it happens, this information is actually important. "Oh, excuse me. I've been waiting for something like this. I promised Samantha that I would pass it along to her as soon as…."

"Hold on a minute there," Kaidan says. Discomfort evident on his face, he studies Joker, EDI and Liara in turn. His eyes linger longest on the asari. "I've got… sort of a weird question. Do you guys know what the commander's favorite color is?"

Joker raises a skeptical eyebrow. "I dunno. Alliance blue? Why would I know that, Alenko? It's not like _I'm_—"

EDI interrupts before the pilot can say something unfortunate. "Although Shepard has not mentioned her aesthetic preferences to me, Jeff's conjecture seems likely. Given the commander's strong attachment to the Alliance military, it is logical that she would prefer—"

"Pink," Liara says. The others turn to stare at her.

"I'm sorry, Liara, my hearing must be going," Joker laughs. "It sounded like you just said that Shepard's favorite color is _pink_. This is Commander Shepard, we're talking about. The woman who's an unstoppable juggernaut of head-butting destruction! The woman who—"

"She likes the color snow turns when the sun comes up," Liara shrugs. "She told me that once… on Noveria, actually, I think."

"No shit," Joker says. "EDI, we've gotta tell Garrus. The three of us are going to have a field day with this!"

"Oh, don't," Liara pleads. "She'll be angry that I told you." Was that Kaidan's plan the entire time? Liara tries to imagine how she would feel if Shepard did not want to be with her any longer. She would like to think that she would not be petty about the end of the relationship, but she cannot be sure. It is unfair to hold Kaidan to a standard she herself might not be able to meet.

"Don't, Joker," the major orders. "I was just wondering. Actually, Liara, that reminds me. Shepard wants you back with her."

* * *

_**Author's Note: **First, Lens, if you're still reading, I did a little ME2 piece (called PPS-Stay Frosty) like you asked for a while back. It's a little different, but I thought I'd let you know._

_Second, the next set of chapters will be up much more quickly. As we get closer to the end, I thought I'd ask what you'd all like to see in an ending to this story. I've got some ideas, but I'm open to the will of the people. If you've got strong feelings about happy v. sad endings, the picket fence v. unconventional lifestyles, children v. no children, let me know. I promise to at least consider all rational suggestions._


	47. Privilege: Liara

**Privilege: Liara**

Her datapads fall victim to gravity when the sneeze that was playing dead in her nasal passages erupts with new life. Liara freezes guiltily. The din does not disturb Shepard; the asari sighs with relief as she picks up the datapads. Usually, the soldier sleeps lightly enough that a change in temperature or an opening door is sufficient to wake her. Dr. Chakwas must have given the commander sedatives.

Over the years Liara has only managed to catch the human asleep a handful of times. Less than a handful. Shepard is always active, always restless. Sometimes, Liara thinks Shepard is a light sleeper because she is afraid of missing any excitement. Missing life.

Liara resists the temptation to wake Shepard just so she can watch the new, kaleidoscopic way the human's eyes grow greener whenever she looks at the asari.

The soldier slouches against the pillows of her bed, head drooping against her shoulder. For once, she is quiet, face still and soft. Loose hair spills over her neck and left cheek. The disorderly display makes Liara smile. On duty (and it seems like Shepard is always on duty), the woman's penchant for order means that her uniform is always spotless, her hair is always neat, and her posture is always rigid. Odd how a little chaos can create such a peaceful effect.

She sighs, depositing her datapads on Shepard's unused desk and mentally bracing for a long stretch of work. Then she catches sight of a small book, slightly larger than her hand, lying on the blankets. A pen slipped between the pages makes Liara curious. The commander always types her mission reports.

The impulse to respect another person's privacy quickly fades. What kind of information broker—what kind of Shadow Broker would forgo the opportunity to investigate Commander Shepard's journal?

Though the human's unlovely scrawl consumes half the page, Liara does not immediately focus on translating the words. Her attention instead fixes on the unfinished sketch of a Cerberus Phantom assassin. Odd. Shepard has never expressed interest in art. The asari files the information away as she turns back to the words.

_Sweet Sister, grant your soldier this: _

_That in good fury he may feel _

_The body where he sets his heel _

_Quail from your downward darting kiss. _

Poetry? Shepard draws _and_ writes poetry? That is…

She opens the front cover. There's another poem written there.

_Soon, soon the flesh_

_The grave cave ate will be_

_At home on me_

_And I a smiling woman._

_I am only thirty._

_And like the cat I have nine times to die. _

She is afraid to wonder what Shepard means with a poem like this.

There are rough images of empty human prefabs on the first pages. Drifts of snow have settled into the rooms. Liara glances at the sleeper. She drew these? These quiet places? Her Shepard, who never sits still?

A holo of Ashley Williams looking surprised and vaguely annoyed is affixed to the next page. And poetry on the page next to that.

_I am a part of all that I have met;_

_Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough_

_Gleams that untraveled world whose margin fades_

_Forever and forever when I move._

There is page after page of Shepard's messy handwriting, copying out poems, or fragments of poems and making notes as to what the words could mean.

(Apparently, she does not write poetry. The realization is a bit of a relief. The idea of Shepard as warrior-poet is intimidating. _More_ intimidating. Too intimidating.)

One set of pages contains only an enlarged holo, carefully folded and attached to the book. It shows a much younger commander and a human female with yellow hair. The other woman is kissing Shepard's cheek, and the soldier's eyes are wide, mouth open in surprise, nose wrinkled with laughter. Liara recognizes Ylva, who died on Elysium.

An incomplete drawing follows the holo, barely more than a few lines. Ylva. Most of her features are rough and half-formed, too painful to render, but there is an uptick to the shape of her mouth, as though she is on the verge of smiling.

_I loved my friend_

_He went away from me_

_There's nothing more to say_

_The poem ends,_

_Soft as it began—_

_I loved my friend._

After that come quick sketches of Jeff and Dr. Chakwas, culminating in an incredibly detailed, strangely poignant portrait of the pilot looking vulnerable without his cap.

Another holo, of Kaidan this time, his hair mussed, dirt on his cheek, and that smile Liara only remembers seeing when he was intoxicated shining across his face.

_What have I to say to you_

_When we shall meet?_

_Yet—_

_I lie here thinking of you._

Past that, Shepard has drawn stars and pieces of wreckage. A pale planet looms large in the background. The view is narrow, as though through a window, and some sort of gas swirls—

_He stirred, shifting his body; then the pain _

_Leapt like a prowling beast, and gripped and tore _

_His groping dreams with grinding claws and fangs._

—Goddess, the human drew her own death!

Liara skims through the pages.

Holos: Tali, a fist swathed in biotic glow that likely belongs to Jack, Joker, Garrus, humans who share the shape of Shepard's eyes and the color of her skin. There is even one Liara remembers posing for at a banquet for the crew of the _Normandy_, when the Council pretended that it had never wanted to keep them all grounded on the Citadel. Part of that evening had included posthumous awards to Chief Williams from the turian and salarian governments. Shepard and Kaidan had stared at anything but the dais when one of the gunnery chief's red-eyed sisters came forward to accept each honor.

Drawings: quick, inelegant manifestations of emotion, sketches and outlines, detailed portraits that could be holos. One of a slightly aged Shepard, with more curl in her hair, and a squarer jaw catches Liara's attention. The commander appears solemn, serious, and utterly unlike herself. The writing on the opposite page says, 'Big Shepard.'

She lingers on two pages depicting Miranda Lawson's distinctive profile.

One Miranda's brow is level, eye half-lidded, disdainful and calm. She is looking down her nose, and her lips have just begun to part, probably to deliver a reprimand.

_She was fair and beautiful, but made of ice—shining and glittering ice. Still, she was alive and her eyes sparkled like bright stars, but there was neither peace nor rest in their glance._

On the facing page, the other side of Miranda's profile still lifts its chin haughtily. The glint in her eye, faint arch of her brow and faint pursing of her lips, however, expose the woman's understated jollity. A different line, presumably from the same work, has been scribbled here.

_He could not imagine a more lovely and intelligent face; she did not now seem to be made of ice, as when he had seen her for the first time. In his eyes, she was not only perfect, but kind, and there was no need to feel at all afraid._

When she turns the page, Liara starts, staring into her own lonely, distant-looking eyes. Although she is depicted wearing light armor, she presses her thumb to her lips as though there is time to be deep in thought. Drawn behind her is a Cerberus logo, and the words are Shepard's attempt to understand Liara's decision.

_Safe quit of wars, I speed you on your way_

_Up lonely, glimmering fields to find new day_

She finds the same holo of Kaidan that she had seen before. Someone drew dark glasses, a mustache, and small horns on him.

Several ripped-out pages precede a bright burst of color. A spread of artistry and whimsy depicts a blue-eyed krogan as he roars and drives a sword through the heart of a creature Liara does not recognize.

_One, two! One, two! And through and through_

_The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!_

_He left it dead, and with its head_

_He went galumphing back._

"_And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?_

_Come to my arms, my beamish boy!_

_O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"_

_He chortled in his joy._

Liara remembers hearing Shepard half-laugh half-croon these lines to Grunt after the young krogan had emerged bleeding and exhausted, but alive, from the rachni cave. He had chuckled weakly at the rhyme, and filled in the words whenever the commander had left a sentence unfinished for him.

The bright picture, the silly rhymes, those are perfect. The humor in the drawing, the affection that gave rise to it, the obsessive rendering of details that bring it to life, those are all Shepard. Uniquely Shepard. Liara would give a century of her life for a universe where the woman who drew that picture could be safe to live out an unexciting life. Liara would give anything for a universe where she could glare at loud undergraduate students in the University of Serrice library, wondering what made art students so particularly insufferable, only to be mocked by the group's brazen, immature human ringleader, whose unrepentant gaze would force Liara to seek quieter places, ending interaction between the two for good.

(How can Liara want to cut Shepard out of her life? Why is she so certain that they would not find each other in a universe without Reapers? These questions are upsetting. Largely because she has no guesses as to the answers.)

Later pages in the book are filled with holos of Thane Krios and Kasumi Goto emerging from the _Normandy's _air vents, notes about funny things Garrus has said, limericks, cartoonish renderings of the Justicar Code that are nearly blasphemous in their impishness, detailed investigations as to whether or not Tali has any sort of romantic attachment to someone named Kal'Reeger. There are more smiles in the sketches. Everything is lighthearted. (Aside from one spate of dark, grotesque drawings of humans trapped in horrible-looking machines, tubes running into their mouths and their veins, delicate metal instruments prying their eyes open).

A sketch of Ashley shows her laughing, with her hair loose and her arm slung around Ylva, whose grin is full of mischief. They are pictured alongside more humans, ones Liara does not recognize, all wearing Alliance fatigues, all in good spirits.

_Well, how are things in Heaven? I wish you'd say, _

_Because I'd like to know that you're all right. _

_Tell me, have you found everlasting day, _

_Or been sucked in by everlasting night?_

_For when I shut my eyes your face shows plain;_

_I hear you make some cheery old remark— _

_I can rebuild you in my brain, _

_Though you've gone out patrolling in the dark._

Liara finds herself again. Shepard has drawn a biotic corona swirling round the asari, who stands in a stark, empty space. She looks forbidding and self-assured. In the bottom corner of the illustration is the yahg's large hand, open and unthreatening in death.

She is studying meticulous renderings of the Reaper artifact Object Rho when someone intrudes.

"The only time I ever let someone leaf through that thing, he had a search warrant." Drowsiness thickens Shepard's voice. Her face is unreadable. "I don't suppose you've been moonlighting as an ACIS officer, have you, T'Soni?"

Liara does not know what ACIS is, but now is not the time to ask. "I am sorry, Shepard." She closes the book and offers it back. "I did not mean to pry," she lies.

"Yes, you did!" the commander counters, scowling. "Although I'm surprised you settled for old-fashioned snooping instead of, you know," she taps her forehead with a finger.

"_What?_" Indignation temporarily renders the asari speechless. She would never join her mind to Shepard's without permission! Does the human think Liara is a barbarian? Or an Ardat-Yakshi? That she has no decency? That she would rifle through private thoughts and memories as though she was entitled to the knowledge? "How could you—I—I would _never_—"

A forceful swipe of Shepard's arm brushes aside her protests. "I should have known! You can never trust the quiet ones!" The soldier's voice does not quite match her words. When she sees Liara staring at her, she smirks and sticks out her tongue. "Well you can't."

"I hate you."

"Mean!"

"I _am _sorry, Shepard."

The woman shrugs. "No worries. You know all my secrets anyway."

"Is that what these are? Secrets?"

"Information brokers and their secrets. Seriously, you're embarrassing yourself." She grins when Liara makes a face at her. "Is it a book of secrets? A little, I guess. Mostly, it's what kept me from murdering Yeoman Chambers while Cerberus had me."

At Liara's questioning look, the human explains. "She was their shrink. I wasn't about to let a terrorist analyze me, no matter how nice she pretended to be, so she gave me this and told me… Oh, what did she say? It was something like… 'This is an incentive to stop defacing the walls. I can't make you talk to me, Commander, but you need to talk to someone, even if they don't talk back.' Kid was pretty smart."

"I recall Ms. Lawson complaining about your pro-Alliance graffiti…."

"No—well, yeah—but Chambers meant the sketches of Freedom's Progress—a colony the Collectors hit—that I drew on the walls of the loft. She made Gardner wash it all off, too."

"That is a shame. I would have liked to see those pictures." Liara smiles. "You are remarkably talented. When the war ends, you should consider studying art."

The commander makes a face. "That's something people actually do?"

"Of course. I cannot believe no one has suggested it to you before."

"Why would they? I like being a soldier. This is just… therapy for when working out isn't working." The wryness in her smile is tinged with bitterness.

It is frightening to remember that Shepard is not invulnerable. "Does it help?" Please, Goddess. Should this woman fall, all are doomed.

"Well, they haven't carted me off to the funny farm yet." Shepard finally takes the book. "Anyway, it isn't all grim. Sometimes it's just… stupid." She flips to a page. "Have—did you see this?" She thrusts the volume at Liara and begins twisting her hands together, stretching her fingers and cracking her knuckles as an excuse not to make eye contact.

This third drawing of Liara is… different. Lighter, somehow. The lines are delicate, as though Shepard was afraid of tearing the paper. In the picture, dappled sunlight plays across Liara's face as she lies in the grass. Her head rests on her arm. Her eyes are closed.

(Was this how she looked when she fell asleep on the Presidium?)

The asari fumbles for words. "I—this—"

The expression depicted on her face in the picture is hard to describe. Not just calm or peaceful. More than happy. More than blissful, even. She looks… serene? Liara doesn't think she's ever looked like that. Not really.

"You smile when you sleep," Shepard comments, staring intently at the ceiling.

* * *

Poems/Quotations (in order of appearance):

_The Kiss_, Siegfried Sassoon

_Lady Lazarus_, Sylvia Plath

_Ulysses_, Alfred, Lord Tennyson

_Poem_, Langston Hughes

_A Love Song_, William Carlos Williams

_The Death-Bed_, Siegfried Sassoon

_The Snow Queen_, Hans Christian Anderson

_To His Dead Body_, Siegfried Sassoon

_Jabberwocky_, Lewis Carroll

_To Any Dead Officer,_ Siegfried Sassoon


	48. Safeguards: Shepard

**Safeguards: Shepard**

"—and finally, Admiral Hackett asked me to tell you that while he respects your opinion, your mother will remain in charge of the Dekuuna rescue operations, and he would appreciate it if you at least tried to pretend that you have faith in the abilities of other soldiers."

"Jerk," Shepard mutters. "I put my ass on the line for the galaxy how many times, and he can't even keep her…." She shuts up when she remembers Kaidan can hear her.

"He also asked me to tell you that your mother has promised to bring you back a rock? I don't know if that's code, but—"

"It's not a code. It's just… a thing."

"If you say so. Is there anything else?"

"I don't suppose Traynor's made any progress on the search for Kai Leng?"

"Not yet. We're due back at the Citadel tomorrow. She says she has some contacts there, so maybe they can help her."

"Tell Liara to look at what Traynor's come up with. Maybe her information networks will pick up something that the Alliance has missed."

Kaidan frowns. He wants to object, and avoid talking with Liara. Shepard can tell that he knows that she's given this order on purpose. He knows he's being tested, but that doesn't mean he has to like it. He stands. His eyes are cold, and the almost-comfortable balance they'd reached during his report has vanished. "Yes ma'am."

"Thanks, Major." It's all right if Shepard sounds sorry. She is sorry. Whatever she and Kaidan had or could have had, she broke beyond repair. She's sorry for that. She thinks she would probably do it again, though. "You're dismissed." She says it quickly, before he can storm out of the room. She tries to let them both keep at least a little of their pride. What's left of it.

"Ma'am," he says, scooping up the datapad he brought with him and walking quickly out of her cabin.

Stupid bed rest. Shepard tells herself this meeting would have been less awkward if she wasn't sitting under the covers of her oversized bed. It's a lie, but she pretends it isn't. If she blames the room, it's not just her fault that everything is like this.

She wants to talk to her mother, to try and talk her out of letting Hackett send her to Dekuuna. It isn't that Shepard has anything against the elcor. It's just that if she had to pick which one she'd rather have at the end of the war, Big Shepard or the elcor, she'd rather have Big Shepard. It's a matter of personal preference. Shepard _likes_ the elcor. Especially after the sixth Blasto vid.

This is why she can't let herself get too far up the ranks. Despite everything, Shepard prefers having to follow orders. She hates having to make those choices that will force her to give up something that's important to her.

(Ashley. If only she'd been the same rank as Alenko. And whose fault was that? Old grudges. The friend Shepard wanted to save was sacrificed because someone in the upper echelons of the Alliance military decided that General Williams' descendants needed to be punished for something that wasn't anyone's fault.)

Shepard is a soldier. She knows that she is supposed to give things up, to make sacrifices so that other people don't have to. And she has. Her whole family has. She says that family is the most important thing, but deep down, Shepard has always known that she could give up anything for the Alliance. Family, friends, boyfriends. Pets.

(Not that she's ever had a pet. If it won't eventually be able to use the bathroom without needing assistance, Shepard's not interested.)

Just not Big Shepard. She couldn't give up her mother. But then, she'd never have to. In that situation, she'd try to keep her mother safe, and the older Shepard would tell her not to be an idiot and run off to get killed anyway. It's what Shepard would do. It's what happens when your family is full of soldiers.

Where are those pills Chakwas gave her? Shepard doesn't want to think about any of this. She wants to sleep, while she can. She loves the way the pills put her to sleep. There haven't been any dreams or nightmares since she was stabbed. Just a pill and oblivion. Sweet, sweet, oblivion, the way things used to be.

The pills should be on the table by her bed, with the glass of water…. She can't find them. Where are they?

**…**

It's disgusting to realize that part of the reason she is glad to see Liara after the tone sounds for first watch is because the asari will have the medication Shepard told her to hold onto. Because the self-aware bits of the commander's brain knew that it wasn't a good idea to keep them around during the day.

"Hello." The asari greets Shepard with a smile, and a kiss to the forehead that's so chaste it might as well have come from one of the nuns Grandmother Upton was always introducing Shepard to when she spent religious holidays with her father and his family. "Did you miss me?" The expression on Liara's face as she sits on the edge of the bed is not nun-like at all. She pushes the human's hair out of the way and strokes the sensitive spot located just behind Shepard's ear with a finger.

"Never should have said that," Shepard complains. "Now you know I'm a sissy. I have a reputation to maintain."

"That's not an answer." It takes a conscious effort to refrain from making an embarrassing noise when Liara replaces her finger with her lips.

"You know I missed you." As soon as the admission is made, the asari stands. She is out of reach before Shepard can try to exact any sort of revenge, leaving a datapad in the human's lap as a cold, unsatisfying replacement.

"There's a book on there that Ms. Goto thought you would enjoy." Liara produces another datapad. "I, apparently, need to review all of Samantha's leads on Kai Leng's whereabouts. For a third time."

"No one would have ordered another cross-referencing if it wasn't important. Don't forget to give your final report to Major Alenko," Shepard says absently. Even though she pretends to think that Kasumi's favorite romance novels are worse than trashy, a part of her _loves_ them. Plus, now she and the thief play a back-and-forth game, emailing each other their commentary on the books they've both read.

"You will be right here when I finish working. I could just tell _you_."

"Except that until Chakwas clears me, the crew of this ship reports to the XO." She refuses to look up from the datapad. "If it helps, pretend I don't exist." For all the tensions, and the fact that Kaidan's Spectre status warrants his own ship, Shepard wants the man here. He's an excellent officer, and she even prefers his leadership style over Garrus'. And even if she didn't have personal reasons for wanting the Shadow Broker aboard the _Normandy_, those sources of information are too valuable to give up.

There's silence. She risks glancing at Liara, and sees the asari studying her with a measuring gaze.

"What?"

"You're very good at this. Sometimes I forget that. Your levity can be very distracting."

Shepard makes a face. "Good at what?"

"Good at being in command. You ordered that information review, didn't you? So that the two of us would be forced to work with each other. I'll bet you've already had EDI forward you the logs of our conversation from this afternoon."

"If you say so."

Liara takes a seat at the desk near the bed that has essentially become_ her_ desk. "I do. And I promise to play nice, Commander."

Shepard doesn't respond, but she smiles. There was never any doubt. Well, not much doubt.

**…**

"Are you sure you want to do this? It is… different. We could wait, if you are not—"

"We've got to take the next step some time. I might need to go slow, but I still want to _go_."

"All right." Liara's smile makes Shepard feel sick to her stomach. She hates how much she likes that expression. That face. "Remember, this is just a contemporaneous exchange of emotions. It will be more immersive than merely exchanging memories, but much more limited than a true meld—" The asari sounds like a textbook.

"Because a meld is thoughts, emotions, physical sensations, and who knows what else, all at the same time. I've got it, Liara," the commander promises.

"Very well." A cool, calloused hand reaches out to claim Shepard's slightly sweaty one. "Embrace eternity."

Shepard likes the color of Liara's eyes. Alliance blue. The same as the first set of armor Shepard ever put on. The same as the logo she used to stare at every morning when she woke up in her 'guest quarters' during the hearings, or in the staterooms she shared with Mom, or in the barracks at N-school. The color of safety. The color of everything certain in the universe.

Shepard remembers that Liara's eyes flash to black when she's reaching out to weave their minds together. She doesn't remember _noticing_ it though. Doesn't remember having thoughts, or feelings at the sight, or thinking that it might be sexy.

A rush of emotions flood into Shepard. Foreign ones that don't belong to her, even if she's experiencing some of the same emotions right now. Nervousness that has a different taste to it. It's excited. Fierce. Shepard's nervousness is taut; it needs tranquility and reassurance. Happiness, tinged with a peaceful sort of disbelief. Shepard's happiness is apprehensive, waiting for the floor to give out from under it. Self-confidence and determination combining to override a faint sense of frustration. Shepard's self-confidence is thin, masking the fear that every decision she makes in this war will ultimately prove to be irrelevant, or worse, harmful.

Even though it is their first time sharing like this, Shepard already loves it. All the feelings Liara has are so different from her own, so much stronger and more definite. Like the certainty of gravity on a planet as opposed to the illusion of gravity on a space station.

The commander closes her eyes and leans back, trying to take in everything she's experiencing. Her breath catches. In the instant it took for her to rest her body against the headboard, she brushed against Liara, and from somewhere that was not Shepard came a heavy, dumbfounding burst of lust.

"What is so surprising?" When the soldier turns to stare at the asari so she can wonder what's wrong with Liara more effectively, she sees that the information broker's own eyes are wide. "You just thought of something you don't believe at all." At another time, Shepard would dwell on how unfair it is that her companion seems able to interpret all of her emotions so easily. There is something more confusing to focus on at the moment, however.

Shepard can't really be blamed for finding it hard to believe that Liara—calm, dignified, intelligent, rational Liara—could feel like _that._ Not about Shepard. She tries to think. She doesn't know what Liara was thinking about when her desire spiked. She could ask. She could embarrass them both and ask. Or, she could….

"Come here," she tugs on Liara's hand and smiles at the faint feelings of exasperation and amusement her command elicits. When the asari edges closer to Shepard, the human—for lack of a better word—pounces. Captures that face in her hands, runs her thumbs under that jaw, slides her fingers along that neck, nips at that mouth until she can taste that tongue with her own.

For a moment, the only new emotion she feels from the information broker is surprise. Liara's been caught off balance; her hands brace against Shepard to keep from falling over.

Oh, wait. No, if Liara was just trying to keep herself upright she wouldn't be—for a moment, Shepard can't breathe. She's unsure if it's the feel of those hands moving confidently, possessively, expertly over her body, or if it's from the incredible surge of longing that rips though her mind.

(All of a sudden, Shepard has a newfound appreciation for Liara's self-control. She hopes this isn't what the asari was experiencing when Shepard stopped them from rounding second base the other night. If it is, the commander is the worst person in the history of galactic civilization.)

Knowing how much someone else wants her, without needing words or some sort of physical clue as a guide, is intoxicating. The soldier focuses on that, ignoring the tender exit wound on her abdomen or the fact that there are still stitches in her back. When Liara's hands slide down, edging under the bottom hem of her shirt, the human sits up slightly to signal permission. The asari doesn't push, just caresses, patient and perfect and self-possessed despite the yearning that she sends aching through both of their minds.

Shepard thinks about how easy it would be to just give in and go all the way. About how much she wants to just give in and go all the way. About how stupid it would be to just give in and go all the way. About how her heart will break after she gives in and goes all the way and Liara gets over her crush on Shepard and moves on.

The link between their minds vanishes.

"Ouch!" Liara jerks away, frowning. The world seems muted without the asari's emotions echoing through Shepard.

"What? Are you okay?" Shepard doesn't remember—

"You," Liara looks hurt, "You closed off your mind."

Did Shepard know she could do that? "Are you sure?"

"It felt like running into a wall, Shepard," comes the dry response. "I am sure." A bitter smile. "It was almost impressive. If I did not know better, I would have thought you received training from a matriarch. As it is, I can only assume that there is something you desperately wish to keep from me."

The soldier squirms. "No," she lies. "There's nothing like that."

"Your emotions evolved from skepticism to amazement and then to, well, various flavors of enthusiasm, but that suddenly turned into fear, and then you severed our connection."

"Me?"

"Have I done something, Shepard? Is there a reason you do not want to share yourself? Was this too fast? Or did I—"

_I'm already jealous of your next flame, _Shepard thinks. _I'm that weak, and I don't want you to know that I—_

"I told you there's nothing," Shepard says. "I'm just tired."

"That is not true," Liara touches the human's face.

"It is, really."

"All right." The asari's face is unreadable; her tone of voice is impersonal. "I think I will return to my cabin, Shepard. I should have Glyph double-check Samantha's research."

If she explains, Liara will stay. If she explains, Liara will _know._

Shepard doesn't try to stop the information broker from gathering her things and leaving. She doesn't call after her to apologize and explain. She doesn't call after her to ask her to leave one of Chakwas' pills, even though she knows there will be nightmares tonight.


	49. Bad: Shepard

**Bad: Shepard**

"I didn't grow up hungry, or fending for myself. My parents were there for me when I was a kid, and I knew they loved me. No one died in a tragic accident. My relatives were part of my life: Mom's family on Earth during the summer, Dad's family for Christmas and Easter. I didn't like school, because no kid likes school, but no one really bullied me. When I started dating, I pretty much only dated good guys. No one's ever hit me. I knew I wanted to be a soldier, and I enlisted with the Alliance as soon as I finished school. Later, after I'd been trained, people decided I was a good enough soldier to be sent to N-school, and made a Spectre, but thousands of other people have made that cut.

"Anyone could do what I've done. If someone else with a little bit of luck had stumbled into the messes that made me famous, they'd be commanding the _Normandy_. I'm too lazy to be special, Liara." Shepard smiles a little.

"I'm not that smart, I'm not good with tech, I'm not mysterious, I'm not a biotic, I'm not incredibly good-looking. I'm boring. Even my issues…I say the wrong thing a lot, I hate talking about my feelings, and sometimes I feel guilty about being alive when I've killed so many people, but none of that's unique.

"I don't want to hurt you. I like you more than I've ever liked anyone. You're smart, and kind, and y'know, beautiful, all of that. You're special. You can find someone else, no problem. Someone better than me. Someone who wants what you want. Trust me, this is for the best. Trying to put off the inevitable only means we'll end up hurting more later. At least this way, maybe we can still be friends?"

The soldier winces. "I know how that sounds, but I really would hate it if we weren't friends anymore."

Her words don't even have a chance to hang in the air.

"Liara's sort of a… feminine sounding name, don't you think?" Admiral Shepard comments.

Shepard stares down at the datapad in horror. "Maybe?" she yelps. "Do you think so? Funny! You know I never really thought about that! Let's talk about the speech! Was it okay?"

"Well, I don't think any man really appreciates being told he's beautiful." Her mother crosses her arms. "Try telling him he's handsome. Or that you're not interested in men."

The commander winces. "Mom, I—"

"I don't like being treated like an idiot, Baby."

"Sorry, ma'am."

"I'm a little hurt. I can't believe you never told me that you were—"

"I'm not!" The younger woman stares to the left of the datapad as she mumbles, "Liara is an asari. Technically they're mono-gendered."

"Technically, my eye. The asari look just like women."

"I know, but I'm not…." Shepard bites her lip. "I never even thought about women at all before this, Mom."

"You liked this girl enough to switch teams, and you're going to break up with her using that terrible speech? Are you sure you don't secretly hate her?"

"It was that bad?"

"Baby, it was horrible. Nothing you said was true. You may not be a genius, or a model—especially not with that new scar on your face, when are you going to learn to wear a helmet—but you're smart enough to know your limits. You've got guts. You're sweet, and honest, and good, and you try so hard. You never asked to be anything but a grunt, but when life throws you curveballs, you handle it. And you handle it better than anyone else could. Liara _can't_ do better than you.

"Plus, you never end a breakup speech by asking to stay friends. Unless you want her to shoot you. Do you want her to shoot you?"

Even though she feels miserable, Shepard chuckles. "No."

"Well then don't tell her she's too good for you, and don't tell her that you hope you can still be friends. Why are you breaking up with Blueberry anyway? Did you realize that your feelings for her weren't strong enough to overcome the fact that the plumbing's wrong?"

"_Mom!_" She can't remember the last time she blushed like this. To make matters worse, now she's thinking about Liara's 'plumbing.' "That's not it. I just—"

"You just what?"

"I really like her, Mom. Take-her-to-the-_Orizaba_-and-introduce-her-to-the-admiral like her."

"Not to sound dismissive, but that's not really a problem."

"No, I mean, I _really _like her. And she… likes me, but not—I rescued her once, so I think it's sort of a hero-worship thing for her. She doesn't like me enough to want to spend, you know, a long time with me. Or, um," this conversation should not be happening, "kids?" Shepard's voice sounds like something that should be coming out of a mouse. She can't even look her mother in the eye. "See? It's too serious. What I want. What I want is too serious, because she's young for an asari. Early-twenties young.

"Plus, she's never really been with anyone before, you know? I'd be her first. And I'm terrified that if I sleep with her, she'll be done with me. I don't want her to leave me."

"So… you're going to break up with her because you're afraid she'll leave?" The smile on Admiral Shepard's face is gentle, concerned, and more than slightly amused. "Oh, my Baby, you've got it bad, don't you?"

"What do I do, Mom?"

"You haven't said any of this to her, have you?"

"Of course not."

"Oh, so she told you up front that she's only using you for sex?"

"What? No!"

"What am I missing? The way I see it, you want to spend the rest of your life with an asari who doesn't know that you feel that way, and you have no idea whether she's serious about you. Are you going to break up with her because you're assuming she's a floozy?"

"_What? _ She's not a—you don't even know her! Did you miss the part where she's never had sex before? Liara takes everything seriously! God, Mom, you sound completely racist!"

"Not me," the admiral protests, "Your plan sounds racist. I can tell you used to work for Cerberus."

"I never—"

"That was a joke. Just talk to the girl, Baby."

"But I don't really—"

"It's simple. Either you care about her enough to undergo the horrible torture of telling her that you're serious about her and you love her—"

"I never said that!" Shepard protests.

Her mother ignores the interruption. "—or you don't, and it doesn't matter what you do, because you aren't actually in love with her, so she can't hurt you."

"I never said—"

"Cut the crap, Baby!" Admiral Shepard snaps. "Look out a window! The world is ending. You're on the front lines of this war. You're sitting up in your stateroom because you got _stabbed through the gut_ the other day! I don't care if Liara is an asari, an NCO, or a whistling chocolate bar! If you love her, you tell her!"

Shepard nods.

"Couldn't hear you, soldier. Are you going to go talk to your girl?"

"Yes ma'am."

"I _said_ are you going to go talk to your girl?"

"Ma'am! Yes ma'am!"

"Damn right you are. Although, see if you can get her to come to you. You're not supposed to be moving around too much. I saw the reports—you stay in that bed until your ship's doctor says you're ready for active duty.

"And remember, if she turns you down, she's an idiot, and you can always accidentally push her out an airlock. Accidents happen in space. Although you're a Spectre, so I guess it wouldn't even have to be an accident."

"Heh. Thanks, Mom."

"I love you, Baby."

The commander blinks. They don't usually say it so directly. Before a ground mission, she tells her mother not to lose her stupid dog tags, and Big Shepard promises to bring her daughter back a rock. It really must be the end of the world.

"I love you too, Mom."

"See?" the admiral smiles. "Shepards can say it. It's not that bad."


	50. Counsel: Liara

**Counsel: Liara**

"How did you know that things were over between you and Mother?"

Aethyta eyes her daughter suspiciously, as though she suspects an ulterior motive. Liara does her best to keep her face neutral. This is just another question about her parents. It is not an attempt to ask for advice. She would never ask her father for romantic advice. She would never _recover_ from asking her father for romantic advice.

"Well," the older asari says slowly, "that's pretty easy. I woke up one morning and she was gone. She did leave a note though. Nezzy was always polite." Her voice is bitter. Clearly, she would have preferred a face-to-face explanation, a confrontation. The appeal of a note is understandable to Liara. If a decision has been made, there is no point in yelling about it.

"That was the first sign you had that she was unhappy?"

"We'd been arguing a lot," Aethyta admits. "But we were always arguing. I liked arguing with her. Even if I always lost, I liked hearing her explain herself. Not just because her voice was sexy, or because after we'd argue she was always horny…."

Liara is certain that her father trails off on purpose, knowing that the idea of her parents _together_ is embarrassing.

"Look at you blush, kid. I swear, if I didn't know better, sometimes I'd think your father was a salarian!" Yes, that was certainly intentional.

"Why the hell are you asking about this, anyway?"

"Scientific curiosity," she replies lightly.

"Bullshit," her father spits. "You've never asked me anything because of 'scientific curiosity.' You don't have the time to waste. Something's up. What is it? Worried because you had a fight with Shepard? Don't be. The only thing better than angry sex is makeup sex.

"I know, I know," she waves a hand mockingly, "you two are 'just friends.'" An eye roll accompanies that comment. "Like there aren't enough sparks flying between you two to power the whole goddess-damn Citadel."

"Why?" Liara snaps. "Why do you always have to make such jokes? I—not everyone finds them amusing!"

"Don't you take that tone with me! Like I keep saying, I'm old, not blind. Let me tell you, after a thousand years, you get pretty good at telling when people are just friends, and when they're using all of their willpower to keep from screwing their brains out in the middle of the Presidium gardens.

"Poor Shepard. You should have seen her face when she tried to tell you that she wanted to be more than friends and you started laughing at her." She grins at Liara's shocked expression. "That's right, kid, your old dad has eyes _everywhere_."

"You are a spy, and nothing more." Liara hates how quickly her father can reduce her to sounding like a sullen child. Her mother was the same way. Perhaps it is a trait all parents share? She wonders if Shepard's mother—No she doesn't.

"Oh c'mon, don't tell me she just left it at that," Aethyta says. "Did she? Shit, I can't decide if you two are so oblivious it's adorable or so oblivious that the Council should pass a law just to make sure neither one of you ever has kids." This thought seems to strike the matriarch, who actually stops wiping down the counter to consider it. "That would be a really cute baby," she muses, "dumb as a rock, probably, but cute enough—"

"Father, I am begging you; please stop!" Liara does not want to think about Shepard, or children, or Shepard's children, or having children with Shepard, or Shepard. Especially Shepard.

"You're right," the older asari says. "You're too young for kids." She points a finger at her daughter. "Don't let Shepard knock you up—"

"By the goddess, would you please just shut up?" Liara is not going to cry. "Shepard and I are not—We are never going to—She does not—I—She—" Liara is not crying. The Citadel's artificial sunlight is unnaturally bright today; that is all.

"Shit." She has no idea how her father ended up on this side of the bar, but Liara abruptly realizes that she is being crushed in the protective, overly tight embrace of a concerned parent. She had not even realized that she missed it. She leans against her father, thinks of her mother, thinks of Shepard, and stops pretending that she is too tough to need to cry all over Aethyta.

As her tears slowly subside, the Shadow Broker becomes aware that her father is speaking. Why does everyone think it is such a good idea to talk to Liara when she is trying to let her feelings leak out through her eyes?

"—is, and I'll go kill her. I'm not a commando, but I know how to fight dirty, kid. And it's not like I didn't warn her. I told her I'd kill her if she hurt you. Maybe not in those exact words, but it was implied. Doesn't matter if she is the goddess-damn galactic messiah, she should have thought about her responsibilities before she went and messed with my girl."

"What are you t-talking about?" Liara asks, blotting her face on her sleeve like a child.

"Is Shepard on her ship? She'd better not be out at some bar while you're here—"

"She is on the _Normandy_. Recovering. She was stabbed during her last mission."

"Bet she didn't even bring you along for that," the matriarch mutters resentfully. "Can you help me get aboard, or do you want plausible deniability on this?"

"Are you seriously considering killing Commander Shepard?" Why couldn't her father be half-elcor, or half-anything less violent than a krogan? Half-keeper, maybe.

"She's the reason you're crying, isn't she?"

"If I say yes, is your solution going to be to murder her?"

"Of course it sounds bad when you say it like that! Just wait until _your_ daughter starts sobbing over some primate with an ego problem. You'll agree with me then!" There is a brief silence. "I won't kill her if you really don't want me to," Aethyta adds reluctantly.

Liara is speechless. Partly because she cannot believe her father could so casually propose the extermination of the only woman capable of defeating the Reapers. Partly because she is irrationally touched that her father would kill Shepard just for upsetting her.

"Wanna talk about it?"

The younger asari shakes her head 'no,' but an explanation tumbles out of her mouth anyways. How she has been in love with Shepard for years. How she accepted that Shepard would never see her in that way. How Shepard suddenly did see her that way! How she has been trying so hard to respect Shepard's desire to move slowly. How they have been progressing so well. How they have not _actually_ been progressing so well. How Shepard was suddenly so afraid of Liara's mental touch that she forced the asari from her mind. How Shepard lied about her fear. How they have not spoken since.

"The more I think about it…the last asari to touch Shepard's mind was an Ardat-Yakshi. A true Ardat-Yakshi, Dad. Shepard was helping a justicar—it is a long story. I have been thinking that perhaps when we—"

"You think that idiot is confusing my baby girl with a mind-vampire?" Aethyta looks furious at the very thought. "You can do better, kid. One of my regulars is a nice turian, ex-military…."

Liara frowns. She does not want better. She wants Shepard.

"Ugh," the expression on her face seems to be upsetting her father. "I'm glad I'm not young anymore. Well, I don't know if beating some sense into her or manipulating her with sex is more your style, but good luck either way."

"I do not understand what you are suggesting," Liara says. "Shouldn't I talk to her? If we do not discuss whatever was bothering her, how will we resolve this?"

"She's talking about using words to finish an argument," Aethyta laments, looking up as though she is praying. The tone of her voice implies that Liara has suggested that the asari would benefit from adopting the sterile reproductive customs of the salarians. "I know she didn't get that from Benezia. And I've never used words to finish an argument in my life. So… she has to be adopted. Except that she looks just like her mother, so she can't possibly be adopted."

The matriarch gives an exaggerated sigh before pretending to have a burst of inspiration. "She must be indoctrinated!"

"That isn't funny!" Liara snaps.

"Agree to disagree."

"Maybe I _was_ adopted," the younger asari muses.

"I can't believe I have a daughter who won't punch or fuck her way out of a relationship problem."

"Your language leaves so much to be desired."

"I've got a century of uptight Armali tutors to counteract. Cut a matriarch some slack. Well," Aethyta places two glasses on the counter and produces a bottle full of dark liquor, "I'm not as smart as Nezzy was, so I don't have any advice for you, kid. But," she fills each glass and pushes one towards Liara, "I can help you get drunk enough to make an honest decision."

They tap their glasses together, and drain them. Liara ignores the instincts that tell her this is a bad idea.

"Remember kid," her father adds as she pours refills, "If you end up deciding you want Shepard dead, I'll help you get rid of the body."

**…**

At first, she thinks Shepard's room is empty. Since only the particularly stupid parts of her brain are still functioning, she concludes that the human must be dead. Again. She leans against the empty fish tank where the commander pastes holos of everyone she's lost, in case it looks like she might accidentally have a happy moment. Liara is torn between the impulse to add Shepard's holo to the tank and have another good cry, and the impulse to locate Miranda Lawson's contact information. Not that she could compose a coherent email in this state.

She hasn't made a decision when the door to Shepard's bathroom slides open. A bleary-eyed, disheveled soldier walks into the main room with slow, careful steps.

"You aren't dead!" Liara points out happily.

Shepard jumps and grabs at her chest. "Oh shit!" Fear, again. "Goddess of oceans, what is _wrong_ with you? You almost gave me a heart attack."

"That is an exaggeration."

"I'm allowed to exaggerate when people suddenly show up in my cabin at oh-three-fucking-hundred." Shepard keeps making her way back to bed. Watching her walk down the stairs is painful.

"I am not an Ardat-Yakshi, Shepard." It is important to establish this.

"I know?" Despite her assertion, the commander sounds confused. "Is that what you're here to tell me?" She collapses onto her bed with a sigh. Liara wonders how much pain she is in. She could dull the human's nerves if Shepard wasn't afraid to let anyone get close to her.

Liara sits on the end of the bed and does not look at Shepard. "Yes?"

"Okay then." Shepard grimaces and leans back against her pillows. "Um…we should talk tomorrow."

"No," the asari says. "We should talk now."

"I'm asleep, Liara."

"You are not." She crawls over the bed until she can prop herself up against the headboard. It is disgraceful that someone with the number of advanced degrees Dr. T'Soni has currently considers scaling a human bed without vomiting a considerable triumph.

"Oh my God, you smell like a batarian brewery."

"Because of course you know what a batarian brewery smells like." Why is Shepard always like this?

"I do, actually. The refugees have a still set up—"

"I love you!" Liara interrupts, irritably. She does not want to discuss alcohol. And this was the other thing it was important to establish.

Shepard's voice is low and tight, like she is angry. "You're drunk. You love everyone right now."

"No." Oh, goddess. Shaking her head was a mistake. "Not everyone. I only love you. Even if you are afraid of me."

"I am _not—_"

"Please shut up," the asari puts a hand over the human's mouth. "Just because I love you doesn't mean I have to let you lie to me."

The commander pulls herself away. "Stop saying that." She climbs painfully out of bed, and Liara tries very hard not to notice the way the bed jostles. "I'm going to grab you some water. And a painkiller. Then you're leaving."

"I am _fine_."

"What conversation are you listening to? You are _wasted_."

"I know what I am saying."

Shepard doesn't reply. She makes her slow way to the end of the bed. It occurs to Liara that Shepard is not supposed to be leaving her bed. Shepard is disobeying Dr. Chakwas because of Liara.

"Wait. You should not be up. Go back to bed."

"You're not the boss of me."

"Please, Shepard? I'm sorry."

That gets the human to stop walking. "What for?"

"I don't know," Liara admits. "Everything? I should go."

"Good idea," Shepard sits wearily on the bed. Her shoulders slump. The soldier is so tired she doesn't object when Liara helps her slide up the bed and get under the blankets. The lack of protests make Liara confident enough to kiss Shepard's forehead. Although the woman instantly rolls onto her stomach, she gives a small, contented sigh.

"Promise me you'll drink some water before you go, okay?" Her eyes are closed.

"I promise," Liara says. "Because I love you." It's oddly freeing to say the words aloud. Even if Shepard thinks they are insincere.

Before she moves away, the asari catches a final, faint whisper from Shepard.

"_Why?_"

* * *

_**Author's Note: **Rapid updates! Maybe because I felt bad about how we left things last chapter? I will try to keep things moving along (probably not quite this quickly though). My assessment has finally come and gone, so now all I have to do is wait for the results and write fanfic. _

_As always, thanks to all of you for reviewing and/or reading! I'm really humbled by some of the things you guys have said, and I'm glad you seem as fond of this sad, stupid pair as I am!_

_Finally, can we get some props for the mater & pater ex machinas?_


	51. Sobriety: Liara

**Sobriety: Liara**

Even before Liara opens her eyes, the pain thrumming through her body suggests that the matriarchs finally got around to ordering a hit on her life, and her father had decided to employ alcohol as her weapon of choice. She shifts slightly, and feels as though a brute is slicing at her skull. Goddess, she wishes Aethyta was a better assassin.

If she does not get up soon, Glyph is going to come over and start chirping at her. It does that, when it notices that Liara has ended a sleep cycle. She supposes that it is the VI's way of trying to make her feel enthusiastic about starting a new day. Would investing twenty minutes or so into resetting Glyph's programming so that its default setting was 'mute' really be such a waste of time?

The seconds tick by, and the room stays silent. Glyph cannot possibly be broken, can it? That seems unlikely. Maybe her father is a better assassin than Liara thought. Assuming that she is, in fact, dead, and judging by the way she feels, it would appear that the human conception of hell is the accurate interpretation of the afterlife. How surprising.

She cannot wait for Javik to get here. Gleefully anticipating the arrogant Prothean's reaction when he learns there is some sort of divine being above and apart from his race probably constitutes some sort of sin, but if she recalls her xenomythology studies, humanity's hell is reserved for those without hope of redemption. Much as Liara would appreciate access to some sort of appellate tribunal, being able to indulge in malicious thoughts without having to consider the consequences is disquietingly enjoyable. Later she can give free rein to her contempt for Diana Allers, who has yet to stop requesting an interview with 'Matriarch Benezia's daughter.' The asari would be more forgiving of the woman's inability to remember that Liara has a name of her own if she did not keep catching the reporter attempting to break through the firewalls on her information network.

It is a testament to whatever alcohol she drank last night that it has taken her this long to realize that her head is resting on a pillow, and that that means she is not dead, her VI is merely broken.

She opens her eyes.

This is not her cabin.

This is not her shirt.

This is Shepard's room.

This is not happening.

Liara bolts upright and immediately regrets the rapid movement. If she were in her own room, she would be confident in her ability to reach the bathroom in time, but as it stands, she doubts that she has enough control over her stomach to last the ten seconds it would take to run across the loft. Using biotics would speed her, but it would also add to her nausea. Goddess, she is running out of—

"Bucket's right on the floor next to you."

The asari's body reacts to the words before her mind has finished processing them. Just in time, as it turns out. When she finishes retching, she feels both healthier and closer to death. Would it be too much to ask for things to make sense?

"Water and a towel on the table there," Shepard says. "Don't drink too fast. Take the antacid, it'll help."

As she swallows the pills left out for her, takes a few sips of water and wipes at her mouth, she feels a blush coloring her entire face and extending back to the very tips of her crest. This is probably the most embarrassed Liara has ever been. Which is saying something.

Although she cannot recall everything that happened after sharing her fifth drink with her father last night, she can remember what happened before that drink. She remembers her last, disastrous attempt to join minds with the commander. She remembers the commander's fear. She remembers the commander's lies. She remembers avoiding the commander.

She needs to remember exactly how she ended up in the commander's bed, wearing the commander's clothes.

"Better?" The asari forces herself to turn in the direction of Shepard's voice. The woman reclines on one of her uncomfortable couches, legs extended along its length, covered by a light blanket. A pillow rests between the small of her back and the arm of the sofa. Datapads are stacked on the low table next to her, easily within reach. She's holding a pencil over the star chart that is spread across her lap.

"I am not sure," Liara admits. She is not sure whether she should feel relieved or disappointed at her certainty that Shepard spent the night halfway across the room.

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, the human seems to decide that their conversation is over, and turns back to whatever she was doing. Much as she tries to focus however, her eyes keep flitting towards Liara.

"Is something wrong, Shepard?" the asari finally asks.

"I should clean that bucket," she says.

Oh. Of course. "I can—"

"No, I should. You can… your clothes are on your desk." Shepard moves haltingly, as though her body is a prison. It is an upsetting contrast to her typical dynamism.

Liara's clothes have been neatly folded and stacked atop the abandoned desk on the other side of the bed. What did Shepard call it?

"Your desk," she muses as she dresses. She will never understand Shep—humans.

**…**

"You're a heavy sleeper," Shepard comments, emerging from the bathroom before Liara has finished strapping on her protective plating. The human immediately fixes her eyes on the ground, and continues talking. She is blushing. "You slept through my briefing with Kaidan. Which, by the way, your presence made a lot more awkward than it had to be, so thanks for that." She deposits the waste bin next to the main desk.

"I'm sorry?" Rather than put it on, Liara folds her coat over her arms.

"Eh," the commander shrugs, looking relieved when she glances up to see that the asari is more or less dressed. "Don't be. I meant to meet him in the hall, but I fell asleep, if you can believe it, and since he's got access, Kaidan just came in. The door woke me up, which was good, because I—well—you were, you know," she nods at the borrowed clothes Liara slept in. "He didn't ask, though. Maybe I should've explained things, but I dunno if you wanted people to know you were plastered. Sorry." She frowns. "I know you don't like the whole sexy-asari stereotype either…."

"No, I—appreciate that you gave it thought." Conversation between them is so stilted and ill-fitting. It has never been like this before. Shepard has always tried to put Liara at ease. The woman has always been a friend to her. Friends…the word stirs some of the memories that were almost drowned in alcohol last night.

_Real friends hold back each other's hair. Or… whatever._

_Friends?_

_Always._

_Just… friends?_ _Just friends?_

_ You don't really love me. You can't._

_ You are so stupid._

"—if I could get those sedatives back," the commander says as she settles back onto the couch. Liara blinks stupidly, unsure as to what she missed. "Hopefully before tonight. I really need them back."

"The pills Dr. Chakwas gave you? But you told me to keep them away from you."

"During the day, sure." Shepard bites her lip and doesn't look the asari in the eye. "I haven't been sleeping that well, though and I was hoping you could give them back…."

Instead of going over, putting a hand on Shepard's face, and apologizing, Liara settles onto the edge of the bed. "You should have told me earlier."

"We… haven't been talking."

"We should have made an exception."

The soldier makes a noncommittal noise. "I shouldn't even need them," she grumbles. "I should be strong enough to—"

"Do you even realize that there is a difference between being strong and being a complete and utter idiot? How can you keep telling every race in the galaxy that it is impossible to confront the Reapers without allies but not ask for help when you need it?"

"I ask for—"

"Don't. If you start lying, I will leave."

_Please stop. Just because I love you, does not mean I have to let you lie to me._

_Stop saying that._

Shepard narrows her eyes slightly. "Do we really want to do this now?"

"We could die at any moment," Liara points out. "So yes, I think I would like to 'do this now.'" She crosses her arms. "But not if you are going to lie. If you want to lie, tell me now, and I'll leave, and we will not ever have to have this discussion."

"I want to lie," Shepard replies immediately. Her declaration takes Liara aback. In all honesty, she was not expecting the soldier to give up so easily.

"I won't, though. Not on purpose, anyways. Okay? I don't know if I can do better than that." Shepard actually smiles a little. "I can be good if I know where the rules are. Do you have any more?"

"Not at the moment."

They stare at each other.

"This is going better than I thought it would," the commander remarks, dryly. She rubs a hand over her face. "How much of last night do you remember?"

"Enough. I remember embarrassing myself, and harassing you, and I remember you being awful and then being kind." Liara blushes. "I remember telling you that I…" she trails off.

"Harder to say when you're sober, isn't it?" How can Shepard be smirking? "And when we've got this 'no-lying' rule." She looks away from Liara. The unasked question hangs in the air.

The asari stares directly at Shepard. "It was not a lie," she says. "It is not a lie. I meant it." She shakes her head. "But you, when I—you weren't—"

"You were drunk! You wouldn't believe some of the shit I've said when I—wait, remember a few weeks ago when I had that idea to poison the Reapers with nutrient paste? I was totally serious about that when I said it, because I was drunk! Didn't think it was such a great idea when I was sober, though!"

"Did you just compare your idiotic ramblings to my telling you that I love you?"

"You have to admit, you'd have to be pretty stupid to think of either one!"

"Did you just call me stupid?"

"I feel like that question is a trap!"

"I love you! Look, I said it, and I'm sober!"

"Well, what the hell is wrong with you, then?"

"Do you _want_ me not to love you?"

"You have to stop just _saying_ it like that. You're making me nervous."

"I don't understand you at all." Liara rubs her temples. "This headache is not the result of the alcohol I consumed last night," she grumbles. "It is completely your doing."

Shepard is frowning. "You can't," she says quietly, shaking her head, "you can't possibly mean it."

"Why not?"

"You've _met_ me."

"Do humans often fall in love with people they have not met? Because I believe I can safely say that if so, that is a habit unique to your species."

"You're very sarcastic."

"Yes, well, you are very stubborn." She smiles. "Sometimes I am not even certain why I love you."

"Yes!" Shepard points at her. "Right there. That's the question. Let's assume, for the sake of argument that you do, you know," she bobs her head, "whatever. Why? Why feel like that? Don't you think you could do better? Find someone smarter? More stable? Less… me?"

_Promise me that you'll drink some water before you go, okay?_

_ I promise. Because I love you._

_ …Why?_

The asari shakes her head. "No. Someone smarter or more stable would not ask that question." Such a simple answer. "I love you because you ask that question. I love you partly because you don't even think to look for the best parts of yourself, let alone take pride in them."

"I feel like you just said that you… like me because I'm stupid."

"Sometimes, like right now, you are stupid. That is not what I said, though, and you know it. Shepard, you are so generous, and noble, and honorable, and you care about everyone, and you would rather be in pain yourself than see someone else suffer, and despite your insistence that life is a joke, you take everything so seriously that it marks your soul…. I—just being near you makes people—makes _me_ believe the galaxy is worth saving. That is why I love you. I cannot understand how anyone could keep from loving you. But you are completely unaware of how amazing you are for some reason, so someone has to tell you, and... I want to be that person." Liara looks away from Shepard, suddenly feeling shy.

She had not meant to say it like that. So clearly. So embarrassingly. She sounds like a child with a bad case of hero worship. But it is all true. She does. Goddess, she does worship Shepard. And not because of the woman's strength or skill or even her beauty. Because of her weaknesses. Because she leaves herself vulnerable so that others will not have to suffer. Only a monster would not value that, would not want to protect it.

"Wow," Shepard says quietly. "You have _terrible_ taste." The asari risks glancing at her and sees happiness and wonder in her smile.

"You are right. I have changed my mind; you are a horrible person."

"Nope, it's too late! No takebacks!" The green in Shepard's eyes lights up as she grins.

"Well, then, I have a question for you, Shepard. The other day," she hesitates, not wanting to spook the commander, "when our minds were linked, why did—what frightened you?"

The human pulls back her head, and tucks her chin. Her eyes darken, and her brow furrows slightly. She looks like an abashed child. "I—" She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "I really hate my mom sometimes, you know?" she makes a rueful face.

"What?"

"Mom made me promise to talk to you. I kind of wish she hadn't. It's hard."

Shepard discussed Liara with her mother? Not that Liara really has any right to be surprised or dismayed, considering that she spoke with her father about Shepard, but that conversation had not been intentional! Of course, without _that_ conversation, they would not be having _this_ conversation.

"I'm not good at feelings, and you—the way you make me—you scare the shit out of me. Showing might be… easier."

"Is that really a good idea?"

"I'll keep it together, I promise."

Liara shakes her head. It _hurt_ last time. More than just her pride and her heart. There was actual pain. Nerve endings having a negative response to the experience. And Shepard hadn't even been aware that she was doing it! "Just tell me."

"You don't trust me." Shepard sounds incredulous. "God, you don't trust me." She looks at Liara sadly. "Guess I can't blame you. It was only a matter of time until I screwed up this badly. I break everything, don't I?"

How can she think that? "No, I—"

"Don't worry. It's fine. I'm fine. I don't need any—I'm fine. I'm sorry. I don't know why I even asked. It's really presumptuous. Was it rude? It was probably rude. I didn't mean to be rude. I never mean to. That's not true, sometimes I do. I used to dream—day-dream—of being unbearably rude to Udina. Or cursing out Councilor Sparatus. Hitting Khalisa Al-Jilani in the face. Telling that security officer on Feros to stop snapping at me because I'm just here to help, and I would've gotten here sooner if I'd known. Every batarian that's ever tilted his head to the right while he asks me for help because he thinks I'm just a human and there's no way I'd know I was being insulted. Oh, sometimes I just want to tell people exactly what I think of them. Usually I manage to control myself though, because it would be rude if I didn't."

It's difficult for Liara to keep her head above the torrent of words flooding from Shepard's mouth. The human does this when she's pretending she's not nervous. Or trying to hide that she's upset.

"Sorry," the commander doesn't pause. "Tangent. What freaked me out. Is what you wanted to know. Okay," she nods and bites her lip. "I can do this. I—" Her words fade away when she meets Liara's eyes. She stares at the hands twisting around in her lap. "I don't—isn't—sometimes, when—This isn't _math_, Shepard, you've got this—"

Liara finds herself torn between pity and amusement.

"Technically you're older than me? And I remember the first time I had s—had a crush…. Not that, you—I—Maybe I should answer your question with a question, you know, because if you—"

This is actually painful. Their cycle will have ended by the time Shepard completes a sentence. The asari gets up off the bed and perches on the edge of the low table. "I love you," she says, taking the human's hand and lacing their fingers together. "I trust you." Shepard stops talking, and sighs with relief as she looks at their hands.

"Would showing be easier?" Liara asks.

"You don't—"

"Yes or no?"

"Yes?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?"

"You sound like a grade-school teacher," the soldier rolls her eyes. "Yes. Showing would be easier. If that's okay."

Liara smiles and tightens her grip on Shepard's hand. "It is okay." They both take deep breaths, preparing themselves. "Embrace eternity."


	52. Torture: Shepard

**Torture: Shepard**

For some reason that isn't quite clear to her, the Alliance has decided to stash Shepard in the Mars Naval base's tiny brig. Maybe the brass is worried that the batarians would be stupid enough to try and launch an attack on Earth? She doesn't know. It could be worse, she supposes. She could be in a batarian prison. Those places are bad enough to make you think the Reapers are a good idea.

On the other hand, she probably wouldn't have to put up with visitors in a batarian prison.

The doctor's hair is longer than she remembers it ever being before. It's grey, too. Not just at the temples, but everywhere, all over. Funny, the grey is actually darker than the blond color from the commander's childhood. Sitting on the hard cot, she wonders if her hair will turn that dark color when she gets older, or if it will lighten to white or silver. Like her hair will have to balance out her father's.

He looks old and tired. He looks disappointed. Every time Shepard meets his eyes, he narrows them a little. He looks like Kaidan. They have the same sort of soft brown eyes and the same irritating habit of assuming that Shepard can exercise total control over her life.

(How could two parents with eyes like Big Shepard and Dr. Dad have produced a kid with the ugliest muddy hazel eyes in the world?)

She doesn't respond when he says her name. He calls her again, and again. He sounds more sad than irritated, and that's annoying.

She stops him before he can try a fourth time. "Everyone calls me Shepard these days," she informs him.

_Now_ he looks irritated. She smiles. "That is one-half of your last name," he snaps. "You had no problems responding to your first name when you were growing up, and I cannot imagine it presents you with any sort of insurmountable challenge to respond to it now."

"It's not," she says.

When was the first time he sighed in frustration at her like that? With Mom a lieutenant on active duty, Dad had been the one to look after Shepard when she was an infant. Did he frown at his baby daughter for disrupting his sleep schedule the way he frowns at his adult daughter for getting locked up?

"What is not what?" he asks in a tone that implies his patience entitles him to sainthood.

_Fuck you. _"Shepard isn't half of my last name anymore, it's the whole thing."

He doesn't say anything at first; Dad never speaks without thinking. Finally, he nods. "Well, at least I won't have to contend with any of the blowback from your war crimes. I do feel badly for Hannah—"

"Shut up!" Shepard explodes off the cot to grip the bars of her cell. There's still a kinetic shield between her and her father, but he backs away from her anyways. "You don't get to judge me!" The doctor looks scared. Like a civilian. Is it any wonder Shepard wanted to grow up to be just like her mother? "You don't know me," she adds quietly.

"I know I wanted you to grow up to heal people, not slaughter them by the thousands," he retorts. "I can damn well judge you for the choices you have made."

"You want to talk about my choices?" she barks, "Where were you after Elysium? Or when they made me a Spectre? Or after the Battle of the Citadel? You want to talk about saving lives; I've saved more lives than you ever will!"

"At what cost? A soldier isn't always making noble sacrifices—"

"You didn't even go to my memorial!"

"I—" Dad coughs and frowns. "I—" Shepard feels stupidly proud for rendering him speechless until he coughs again and his spit gets on her cheek. She wipes it away, revolted. It's red on her fingers. It's blood. He's coughing up blood.

An electric buzz crackles through her ear canals. A Cerberus phantom appears, and yanks her sword out of where she stabbed Dr. Dad in the chest.

"Dad!" When he crumples, Shepard forgets that she hates him now, and drops to her hands and knees, pressing her face to the floor so that they're on eye level. The blood pouring out of him starts leaking into her cell, soaking her clothes and her hair. Getting into her mouth. "Dad, Dad, Dad!"

He whispers something.

"Dad? Dr. Dad!"

He says it again. Her name? Her first name? No, too long.

Shepard tries to shove her arms through the bars, but the damn kinetic shields that are supposed to keep her from attacking anyone slam into her hands. "Put pressure on it!" The one medical certainty. "Dad?"

"Moon…" he gasps, "moonshiny…lamb." His eyes get dark, like hers. Blood stops dribbling out of his mouth every time he exhales.

_My moonshiny lamb..._ "Daddy?" She's never called him that. Not that she remembers. _My moonshiny lamb has a ship in the sky…_ She needs to figure out a way to reach him. Help him. _My moonshiny lamb has a ship in the sky, to bring back her Shepard…_ She makes herself stand. There's blood covering the side of her face, soaking her left pant leg, the left side of her shirt. It's dripping from her hair. Where did he keep it all? _My moonshiny lamb has a ship in the sky, to bring back her Shepard, so she doesn't cry._

She kicks at her cell door, punches it, doesn't care that it will break all the bones in her hand. _My moonshiny lamb…_ Miraculously, the lock gives a weak hiss, and the door falls out of her way. _My moonshiny lamb has someone close by, to love and protect her, so she doesn't cry…_

"Tell me what to do!" the soldier yells as she runs—

She remembers this feeling. Shepard looks down. Sword. Sword through her. The noise of someone dropping a cloaking field. Phantom? Before she can turn, her eyes are captivated by the sight of the blade slowly sliding out of her body.

Pain. Pain, pain, pai—

**…**

Ensign Copeland cleaned the paint off of her mirror a few days ago. She doesn't know how he found out that she'd painted over the glass in the first place. All she knows is that she isn't grateful at all.

There are always moments when you look at yourself and realize that your face could belong to a stranger. Her eyes are bloodshot, and she's pale. There are tear tracks on her face, and a little bit of blood on her chin. She bit the inside of her cheek while she was sleeping.

Shepard runs the faucet and splashes tepid water on her face, wishing it was cold enough to make her forget about how her father's blood had felt in that nightmare. The holo-clock said it was 0247. How will she get through the four hours until her morning briefing with Kaidan? She's running out of ideas. Every night is like this. Nightmare. Panic. Sleeplessness. Everything about her body feels weak, and so heavy; she's exhausted. No matter what else happens tomorrow, she has to finally talk to Liara, if only to get those sedatives back.

When the bathroom door slides open, her room is dark and quiet. A place any normal person could happily fall asleep.

"You're not dead!" An overly enthusiastic asari materializes out of the dark like a Cerberus operative.

"Oh shit!" Shepard's life actually flashes before her eyes. Liara? What is Liara doing here? What is _wrong_ with Liara? "You almost gave me a heart attack!" Is Liara really here, or is this the start of another nightmare? Would a nightmare be preferable to… who even knows what's happening between them anymore?

Does she want to talk? Are they pretending that everything is fine? What's going on? Why is Liara here _now?_ Couldn't she come back in a little while? When Shepard is capable of having a conversation? Bed. She has to get to bed and pretend to fall asleep so she doesn't have to talk. Except, apparently, that rule doesn't count right now. Liara sits on the bed when the soldier tries to hide.

Goddess of oceans! "You smell like batarian brewery." At any other time, it would be fun to see a drunken Liara. Even if they're fighting. Or whatever they're doing. Just not right now. Not tonight, when she still hears her father rasping out that lullaby he used to sing. Shepard says anything to block out the memory of his voice.

"I love you."

No. No. No. Shepard must be having another nightmare. Liara isn't cruel. She isn't the kind of person who gets drunk and tortures people like this.

"I only love you."

The Shadow Broker's small smile is so sweet. Why does she have to be drunk?

"I love you."

Bathroom. The bathroom is safe. Shepard can go there and splash more water on her face and forget her father's blood and his voice and the feel of Liara's hand on her mouth and the right words coming at the wrong, wrong, wrong time. She can bring back a glass of water to sober Liara up, and then Liara will remember that they aren't speaking. She'll leave, and Shepard can sit in the dark and try not to think about anything until the day starts.

Goddess of oceans, she's so tired that even her wasted, rambling asari can see that Shepard probably won't make it across the room. Liara tells Shepard to get back into bed, helps her lie on her stomach, because that hurts the least.

"Promise me you'll drink some water," the human sighs. She wants to sleep, but she knows that even if nothing was wrong, she wouldn't be able to. The galaxy is such a loud place.

"I promise I love you."

Not for the first time, Shepard wishes that she could just close her ears to everything. This is too hard. She hides her face in her pillow and keeps quiet, but her traitor ears follow Liara's every step through the cabin. Into the bathroom. Running the tap. Running the tap for too long. Getting sick.

**…**

In spite of a lifetime of living shipside, Shepard doesn't turn off the water when she reaches the bathroom. Instead, she kneels on the floor, next to Liara, who is hanging onto the toilet as though it could defeat Reapers.

"You're all right," the commander promises, running her hand firmly along the asari's spine. She smiles when Liara shakes her head 'no.' She remembers that feeling. "You are. You're fine."

"I'm _dying_."

Shepard stands, pulls her towel off its hook, and wets a corner before closing the faucet and coming back to Liara. "Not tonight, I promise." She rubs a hand over the information broker's back when she retches again. "It's okay."

The Shadow Broker won't meet the commander's eyes. She's blushing like a nervous young archeologist. "I'm sorry, Shepard."

"Hey, this happens to the best of us. Apparently. Nothing to be sorry about. Real friends hold back each other's hair. Or… whatever." Liara sits up, and looks at Shepard a little angrily. Is someone sensitive about her not-hair? The woman presses the damp part of the towel to the asari's face. Funny, how she feels awake now. Maybe soldiers don't heal, but they help.

"Friends?" Liara says.

As if any fight could withstand the fierce bonding between someone who's had way too much to drink, and the person who helps remind her that the nausea is survivable. "Always."

"Just… friends?" She's vomiting again before Shepard has a chance to answer. That's probably for the best. "Just friends?" she repeats, as soon as she's able. Her eyes lock onto the human.

"This isn't the right time to talk about—"

"I am going to be dead before morning, Shepard. Humor me."

"Weakling. University was wasted on you. I'll bet all you did there was study."

"Please."

Shepard puts a hand on Liara's shoulder and pushes her back a little. She flushes the toilet and stares at the bolts that secure it to the wall. "You don't really love me," she says finally. "You _can't_."

"Oh—" The asari's stomach interrupts her. She clutches the bowl of the toilet and heaves as though she is in pain.

Shepard winces in sympathy and rubs her back some more. "You're all right, everything's fine."

"You—" Liara is breathing hard. She stays leaning forwards; she's reached that point where she's afraid to be too far away from the toilet. "You are so stupid." She straightens enough to look Shepard in the eye.

The commander hands Liara the towel and goes back to the sink. Funny, how her body hurts less, even though she's moving around so much that Chakwas will probably force her back to the infirmary where she can be scolded and monitored. She fills a cup with water and offers it to the asari, who shakes her head. "Trust me. It'll help." Liara frowns, but takes a few small sips. When she gets sick again, she glares at Shepard. "I promise it'll help. Eventually."

They sit on the bathroom floor for a long time. Or maybe not so long; Shepard can't really tell. Long enough for Liara to finish her water and for the commander to pour her another glass.

"I'll be right back." Shepard brings Liara a soft, clean shirt and a pair of loose pants. "You can borrow these."

"What?"

"You're not going to get sick again. Probably." She takes a bottle of painkillers out of the cabinet and hesitates. "Do the asari get headaches when they're hungover?"

"I've never been hungover." Liara looks ruefully up at the human. "Or gotten sick like this."

"Lucky that I'm so sleep deprived that I think it's an honor to share this experience with you. I cannot believe you went to university." She takes the glass from Liara and refills it. Hands her a painkiller. "Guess it can't hurt. Come out when you're changed."

She puts her trashcan next to the bed, tosses her pillow onto the couch, and scrounges an extra blanket from the closet. The door to the bathroom slides open. Liara's clothes are bunched in her arms. Is Shepard the only person in the universe who believes in neatly folding things?

The asari makes her way over to the sofa.

"You take the bed," Shepard says.

"But—"

"I'm not going to sleep anyway; I've got work to do. Give up your clothes."

Liara hands over the untidy bundle. "If our positions were reversed, you would make an inappropriate joke."

"That's because I'm immature and stupid." Shepard isn't sure how the hell you're supposed to fold Liara's oversized coat. Is there plating sewn directly onto her shirt? No, it's an extra layer under her shirt. Does she wear it all the time? "You complained that _I_ wear too many clothes?" She stacks a small mountain of garments on the desk by the bed.

"I was in my nightclothes. And I was speaking comparatively," Liara says defensively. "How many layers do you wear to bed?"

"That's for me to know and you to wonder," she flirts. This is why they have to fight by not speaking.

The asari settles under the covers. "Hm."

Shepard climbs onto the couch and pretends to read the latest Alliance notices on Cerberus activity for a while. "You all right?"

There's no response.

She peers over the top of her datapad. It certainly looks like Liara's fallen asleep.

"'Night."

Still quiet. She waits a little longer to be sure. To be safe.

"Liara?"

Silence.

The commander sighs. "I love you too, T'Soni," she whispers.

* * *

_**Author's Note: **So, I forgot to thank FloridaMagpie for introducing me to the term 'blueberry,' which has become Admiral Shepard's nickname for Liara. Thank you!_


	53. Flashback: Shepard

**Flashback: Shepard**

Shepard gives Liara the memory of a memory. The memory of _her_ memories. The ones she chose to define herself in the moment she was most alone. Things the human tries to forget, things the human clung to on hopeless nights, things that don't belong together but are together, things the asari will not want to see. Things she has to see.

Everything. She gives Liara everything, because she's afraid not to.

**…**

It begins on the first _Normandy_. The commander's old face looks back at her, the eyes that didn't glow red in the dark, the scar on her chin from the time she fought with _perfect Cousin Eloise_, the dark brown hair with hints of red and gold in it from summers and shore leaves spent under Earth's sun that she kept long because that's what Big Shepard did, and Big Shepard is beautiful. She looks away from herself and straps her old armor onto her body. Heavy ceramic plates, stiff with outdated technology and bold with the stripe that identifies her as an Alliance N7 soldier and dares the bad guys to face her.

"We're not seeing anything in this sector, Commander," Joker always intrudes on private moments. "No sign of the geth. You still want to do the drop?"

"Orders are orders." Did her voice sound harsher then or does it sound harsher now? "Tell Alenko and Vakarian that I'll meet them in the Mako."

"Aye-aye, ma'am."

Thinking about Lieutenant Alenko makes Shepard feel… warm. She shakes her head and reaches for a datapad. The mission. She is a Shepard, and a Spectre, and she focuses on her assignment, not cute boys and their incredible—

An explosion rocks the ship. Attack! She slams on her helmet, glad she's already suited up, and runs for the emergency beacon. In this moment, unlike so many moments in her life, she knows exactly what she has to do. Protocols and procedure!

The beacon is launched. She turns to see Lieutenant Alenko standing in front of her. She frowns. He is not behaving the way an officer of his rank should. It's his duty to oversee evacuation; her HUD says that Pressly is dead. That makes Lieutenant Alenko the de facto executive officer. He's not wearing his helmet, either. He says Joker won't leave.

(Is she the only professional soldier on this god-forsaken tin can?)

The Lieutenant tries to say that he won't abandon ship either. Shepard stops trying to put out the fire, plants her boot on his ass and shoves. She shouts at him until he leaves to do his duty. This is no time for mutiny.

One escape pod left. She drags Joker to it, throws him into a seat, not caring about his bones, just his safety. Before she can follow him, another explosion launches her backwards. Her back slams against the twisted metal of her broken ship, and she knows she'll never make it back to the escape pod. So she launches it, and lets go.

The HUD tells her that there is a leak in her oxygen line. A bad one. She's going to die. Funny how that thought makes her feel short of breath.

**…**

"Mama!" She runs to her mother and wraps her arms around her legs. They promised that at the end of this summer she could live with Big Shepard all the time. She's _early_ and it doesn't matter that they still haven't gone strawberry picking or that Mike promised to teach her to swim or that Ricki Ninja is going to have puppies any day now! "Mama!"

Strong hands lift her up, and suddenly Shepard is staring at someone who's not her mother.

"Sorry, kiddo," Cousin Katie smiles. "Aunt Hannah's still on active duty."

"I knew that." Shepard says. "And I knew you were coming home today. I _did_." She tosses her head back when she starts to sniffle so that her tears will have to stay in her eyes. That doesn't last long though, because her cousin bends down and dips Shepard and then they're spinning around and Shepard is laughing.

They fall in the grass, but they get back up, and Katie lets Shepard try to lift her duffel before she takes control of it. "So, you think I look like Aunt Hannah?" Katie isn't a first lieutenant, she's a new recruit, but she's old like Mama, nineteen, and she's _wonderful_. "I feel pretty now."

"You are pretty," Shepard promises. She pats her cousin's leg as they start walking back to Self-Heal Harbor. Poor Katie's eyes are messy, like Shepard's, but messy blue-and-green, not messy brown. Shepard won't tell her. She loves Katie, even if she wishes Big Shepard was here.

When they get inside the house, Katie drops her bag and scoops up Shepard, putting a finger over her lips. "Let's surprise them," she says. Shepard nods, excited for the trick.

In the kitchen, Cousin Mike, Grandma and Granddad Shepard argue with Uncle Andy, Cousin Jack, Cousin Jane and Uncle Jack about whether or not they will be going out to celebrate Katie's first shore leave or making a big dinner at the house.

"It's easy for you to sit there and say 'we'll cook,' Jack!" Grandma shakes her finger at her oldest son. "You're not the one who has to clean up after you and your brother make a mess of the grill and the kitchen and the floor."

"I can clean it up, Grandma," Cousin Jack offers. He's twelve, and quiet. He likes birds, and sometimes he puts Shepard on his back and tells her to hold on tight to him, and they climb trees to find bird nests. He and Uncle Jack live here all year, because pirates cut off Uncle Jack's leg and he can't be in the Alliance anymore.

"You're sweet, Jackie-boy, but I still think—"

"What does Katie want to do?" Cousin Lewis interrupts. He hasn't been arguing, just playing with Aunt Kathy and Cousin Laura and Ricki Ninja on the ground.

"Well she's not here right now, and her shuttle isn't due in until—"

"Surprise! Hey, all!"

"Katie!" The rest of the family swarms over the oldest grandchild, laughing and hugging her, and squishing the youngest grandchild in the middle of it all. Aunt Kathy cries a little, she's so happy to see her daughter. It's all a big noisy mess, and they'll probably never decide where they're going to eat dinner, and Shepard _belongs_ right here.

**…**

The furniture in the dining room is all old, well maintained and valuable. There are bright silk cushions on the chairs, which are filled by dignified people enjoying dinner: Father Crowley and Mother Superior from St. Teresa's, Grandmother and Grandfather Upton, too many doctors and their spouses, Dad, the dean of the medical school, Uncle Hudson, Aunt Catherine, and _perfect Cousin Eloise_.

The spineless breeze drifting in off the courtyard smells vaguely terrible; money and education aren't enough to buy clean air. Mumbai is the worst, too hot. Why does Grandmother Upton insist on having a 'Yuletide blaze' when it's almost thirty degrees outside? Sixteen-year-old Shepard gulps at the overly sweet juice in her goblet, and wishes for water. Or Cousin Mike and illicit sips of beer.

Everyone is talking about Eloise's upcoming graduation from medical school. They want to know where she's applied for her internship. Her professors are praising her, Grandmother and Grandfather Upton look adoring, and her parents look smug.

If someone says something even mildly amusing, Shepard's going to pretend to choke on her drink and see if she can spit it across the table and onto Eloise's stupid white dress.

"How have you spent your time since I saw you last, child?"

Father Crowley, with his white collar and yellow tooth, sits to her left. His breath isn't great, but other than that, he's not so bad. According to Dad, he stood up to Grandmother Upton when she tried to have Shepard baptized behind Big Shepard's back. He has guts.

"My mother's stationed on the _Einstein,_ Father. The ship was the first Alliance responder at Mindoir last month. Mom's fire team was the first one to hit the ground, and she led an action that actually liberated a whole pen of captured colonists."

At the mention of the farming colony the batarians had razed, the priest blesses himself. "I heard about Mindoir. Those poor people." He shakes his head. "Fortunately, we have good people like Commander Shepard who have dedicated their lives to serving others. You must be very proud of her."

"There's a rumor going around that she's finally going to get her captain's stripes for this." Shepard grins at him. "I keep telling her that she doesn't deserve it—she was only authorized for recon, not direct action."

"Would you have her sit by while her fellow men are suffering if she knew she could help?"

The teenager rolls her eyes. "Of course not, Father. I just don't think she should be rewarded for disobeying orders." She leans towards the man and lowers her voice, conspiratorially. "Mom says I better hope the brass values results over strict obedience, because if they don't, I'll never be anything but a grunt."

Father Crowley laughs. Shepard wants to ask him if the batarians have souls. Big Shepard fell asleep while drafting her reports on Mindoir; her daughter knows exactly what the four-eyed bastards did to those colonists. Before she can speak though, he has a question for her.

"So you plan to enlist with the Alliance when you are old enough? Will you be the only Upton who does not pursue her medical degree?"

"I'm an Upton-_Shep_—" she starts to correct him when Grandfather Upton's voice booms across the room.

"Of course she is, Father! She's not a barbarian; she understands that she needs an education if she ever wants to make anything of herself. Even Oliver understands that; I'm sure he's spoken with Ms. Shepard about their plans for their daughter." He glares down the table at Dad, who does a very good job at not standing up for either himself or his daughter. "The Uptons put their faith in science, Father. And God," he adds belatedly, glancing at Grandmother Upton. "In _science_," he repeats, "not violence."

Shepard knows better than to try and get Grandfather Upton to call Mom by her proper title. She twists her napkin on her lap, and thinks about the Mindoir victims that the _Einstein_ let stay in the cargo bay for a day or two. Soldiers did more to help those colonists than any doctor could have.

**…**

"You're safe now. It's all right. You can let her go."

The dumb kid leading this sorry group of Johnny-come-latelys is lucky that she doesn't have enough strength to stand. That she's too sick of killing to have any anger left for him. Shepard hugs Liv tighter to her chest and buries her face in her friend's neck, as though the contact between them will warm the other woman's body, start her blood flowing again, bring the light back to her eyes.

If it's safe now, it's because Shepard did such a good job of assigning troops to set up strategic points around the outskirts of Elysium city before she and Liv took off to the small, quiet spot one of the locals had pointed out on a map. A place the lieutenant would have overlooked. A place the batarians hadn't overlooked, damn them!

If it's safe now, Corporal Useless and the Do-Nothing fire team can just fuck off and let their superior officer die out here. Not from a bullet, the way she was supposed to, but from the cold. That isn't as good, but at least Liv will know she wasn't abandoned.

Liv is dead. Really dead, the kind of thing that people don't come back from! Oh, God, Liv is dead. What is Shepard going to do? She's going to be alone at N-school next month. She's going to be alone forever; Liv was her only female friend! Who's going to tell Shepard what celebrities matter next month? Who's going to tell Liv's dad that his daughter is dead? Her little brother—Mats, oh little Mats with his crooked teeth, he _worshipped_ Liv.

She can't stay alive with this guilt.

"Oh, for—She's cracked, sir!" someone complains. "Knock her out, and let's drag them back to the—"

Shepard is on her feet with her hand around the private's throat before any of the slow, soft idiots can react. She's aware of the guns being pointed at her, and she couldn't care less.

"My name," she watches her words form wisps of steam in the cold air that drift over a stupid, scared face, "my name is Lieutenant Shepard. My sister there, her name is—" Her voice cracks and she hates everything. "Her name _was_ Lieutenant Sørenson. She was slated for N-school. She died saving this colony. She was supposed to be on shore leave, but instead she bled out behind a fucking car because the Alliance had its thumb up its ass and didn't send relief troops in response to our initial distress signals!"

She's squeezing the kid's neck so hard that his eyes are starting to bug. He's making choking sounds. She doesn't give a fuck. Liv is dead, dead, dead, dead, _dead_, and nothing will ever be important—

Something hits the back of Shepard's head and then the darkness turns to something more sinister than a planetside nighttime.

**…**

The other hikers milling around the top of the mountain turn to look when they hear her shout, "What the fuck are you doing?" Let them, nosy assholes. She doesn't care if everyone on the planet can hear her. She doesn't care if her shouting causes an avalanche. "Get up! Stop it! _Don't you dare! _ Neil, knock it off or I swear to God, I will _kill_ you."

Neil's sweet brown eyes stare up at Shepard, looking a little wounded, but completely determined. Her just-a-friend-from-N7-training-that-she-has-more-than-occasional-sex-with defiantly produces a small jewelry box from his pocket.

"You have to know that I love you," he says. "You had to have seen this coming. I just—I want you. For keeps."

There's a ring in the box. The soldier feels sick to her stomach. "No," she whispers, shaking her head, "No, no, no, no." They weren't even supposed to be exclusive! What is he _doing?_

"Please," he says. He takes the ring out and offers it to her. "I'm not the same without you."

"No!" Why would he do this? They're friends, and Shepard needs her friends, and Shepard always screws up everything that's more-than-friends, and he's right, she _should_ have seen this coming. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

What is she supposed to do? There are so many people around, should she pretend to say yes and then later—

No. She's a Shepard, not a coward. She takes a deep breath, grabs the ring out of his hands, and chucks it off the top of the mountain.

"You _idiot_," she hisses. "Why did you _do _that?"

"I—" Neil looks shocked. Hurt. Broken. She breaks everything, eventually. Why didn't she see this coming? Shepard reaches down, plants her hands on his shoulders and pushes him so that she doesn't have to see his face.

So much for resting and appreciating the view. Shepard rips the cap off her canteen, gulps half its contents, dumps the rest over her head, and starts shouldering her way through the gathered crowd. She has to get away from him. When she reaches the edge of the trail down, she shouts, "Send me the bill for that stupid thing!" She doesn't say she's sorry. She doesn't turn back.

Neil doesn't chase after her.

**…**

Just like that, it's over. Her life, her memories, _her_. She's done.

_O__2__ LEVELS CRITICAL_

The commander stares at the stars, the debris from her ship, the white planet below her, the oxygen leaking from her tank and drifting across the sky. She takes a last, deep breath, and whispers, "Courage is the price life exacts for granting peace." Big Shepard says that. Good last words. She shuts off her suit comm. Okay.

Bring it on.


	54. Honesty: Liara

**Honesty: Liara**

"Hey," Shepard says. "Look at me, standing and everything."

Liara shoves the commander, gently. "We're not really here. You know that. I _know _you know that."

"Yeah, well your arm is just as weak here as it is in real life."

"Didn't you have something you wanted to show me?"

"Why do you always want to rush everything? I mean, I get why this is boring for you. Weak here, weak there, weak everywhere, but I'm _walking_."

"We are standing in an empty space. There is no way for you to actually make any sort of forwards progress without a horizon of some kind."

"Spoilsport."

The emptiness fades away until they're standing in Shepard's cabin on the old _Normandy_. The commander is putting on her armor.

"What is that mark?" Liara asks.

"What mark?"

"The dark one. On her—on your shoulder. Next to the base of your neck."

"What—_Oh_." Shepard blushes. The scene in front of them starts to fade. The room darkens, and Liara hears a male voice laughing. Kaidan's voice.

"Crap!" Shepard scowls, and they're back to watching her arm herself.

Liara remembers this day. She did not see Shepard at all on this day. When the alarms went off, she had followed the emergency lights to the nearest escape pod. She had never imagined that Shepard would not do the same.

She regretted that. More so when she had had to leave Feron behind. Liara is a coward; she always leaves people behind.

"You don't." Shepard takes her hand and squeezes. "You _saved_ me."

The connection works both ways.

They watch the remembered Shepard run across the ship. She gives orders, launches the distress beacon, puts out fires, shouts, kicks Kaidan in the seat of his pants. That last action makes the asari laugh. "Sorry," she lies when her human makes a questioning face.

They watch the remembered Shepard pull Joker out of his chair and drag him to the last escape pod. She radiates confidence, determination. With a plan to follow, she is at ease, at her best.

"I forgot that it used to feel like that," Shepard says.

"Like what?"

"I—it's hard to explain. Like… breathing, I guess. Easy."

"_That_ was easy?"

"Protocol does that for me. I'm good when I don't have to think for myself."

"Despite the fact that thinking for yourself is the only reason the Reapers have not won yet?"

"Flatterer."

The old _Normandy _explodes. Liara watches Shepard's face as the destruction occurs. So she does not have to watch the ship be torn apart again. So she does not have to watch the remembered Shepard scrabble at her leaking oxygen line and pinwheel away into the vacuum. Into death. It makes little difference. Shepard's grip on her hand grows painfully tight, and fear and pain rush through Liara's mind.

And then it all vanishes.

**…**

They stand in grass dotted with small, purple flowers, facing a road lined with dirt and rocks; it is a bright day. She squints up into the sky, hearing animals make musical noises in the woods behind them.

A human woman wearing Alliance fatigues walks towards the house sitting at the end of the road. Her long, dark hair hangs down her back in a braid.

"Is that you?" Liara asks Shepard.

The soldier smiles and says nothing.

"Mama!" A child bursts out of the woods and makes straight for the woman. She knows her mother. She loves her. Her mother is her whole world. "Mama!"

The young woman doesn't turn around until her legs are captured in a hug. Then she drops the bag she carries and hoists the child up.

The sun dims, and the songs Liara heard begin to fade. "Sorry kiddo, Aunt Hannah's still on active duty."

"I knew that. And I knew you were coming home today," young Shepard's voice is thin, reedy, upset and uncertain. "I _did_." And stubborn.

The older girl, "My cousin Katie," Shepard whispers to Liara, is not fooled. She swings her young relative through the air until they both tumble to the ground.

"Come on," adult-Shepard orders. The outdoors fades away into two—no, three—long, low rooms with exposed wooden paneling on the walls. Humans who all look more or less like Shepard crowd the rooms. They are loud, arguing. But—her Shepard smiles.

"Look," she says. "My grandparents." The scene freezes and she touches the oldest humans. "Uncle Jack." A human with red-brown hair, "Pirates got his left leg. He and Jack—my cousin Jack," she points across the room at sunburned boy, "live here all the time. Mike and Jane are twins. Uncle Andy is their dad. Laura is closest to me in age; she was five when I was born." She crouches next to the dark-haired girl petting a dog on the braided rug. "Aunt Kathy is Cousin Katie's mom."

The room comes back to life. As soon as Katie comes into the room with Shepard the toddler, the rest of their family explodes around them, hugging them tightly, crying, laughing, talking, yelling, a loud mess of love.

Pure, unadulterated happiness rolls off of Liara's Shepard. When it ebbs though, she catches hints of wistfulness, fear, and sorrow.

She stands behind Shepard and asks, "Where are they now?"

The woman stares hungrily at the knot of people. "Granddad died just before Elysium. Grandma died just after—she died while I was dead. Mike—" her voice catches, "Mike was part of Second Fleet. They were—were wiped out so the rest of humanity's fleets could escape. He's a hero."

"And the others?"

"I—Jack worked at Grissom. I—I saw him, in the hallway where David Archer and his friends were. He—" Shepard turns into Liara and hides her face in the asari's shoulder. "Mike was my favorite, but Jack was the nicest. He loved animals. And kids. Grissom was a dream job for him. Poor Jackie-boy. The rest…we don't know about the rest."

"Shepard, I—"

**…**

A different room materializes around them. New, quieter humans sit on dark, heavy furniture in a stone banquet hall. There are a number of tall, beautiful windows covered with light fabrics shifting sluggishly in the stale breeze. The room is hot, a fact that is exasperated by the fire roaring in the ornate fireplace at its far end.

The commander pulls away from Liara. "It's all right. I'm all right. I'll heal."

Her guilt and grief still pulse raw. She is not all right. Liara brushes an errant lock of the human's hair aside and says only, "What is this?" The asari looks around the room and catches sight of a face that will grow into the one that is familiar to her. "Look at you!" she laughs, walking over to the not-quite-grown Shepard sitting stiffly between adult humans. "How old are you?"

"Sixteen."

Liara looks closely at girl whose face is set in a half-hearted smile. "Where's your scar?"

Shepard grins. "Want to watch me get it?"

The asari starts to shake her head, but it is too late. A scene of discomfort and family embarrassment speeds by. Liara scowls at the stodgy man who decrees that Shepard will be a doctor. Shepard would be a terrible doctor. She has no patience. She is afraid of needles.

It is the same day. Young Shepard wears only socks and a loose shirt that falls past her knees. She lies on a bed in a small, hot room, watching a vid on her outdated datapad. It makes her laugh.

A blond-haired human bursts angrily into the room. Liara recognizes the young woman from the earlier meal.

"My _perfect cousin Eloise,_" Shepard mutters.

Something has turned Eloise's skin a deeper shade of blue than Liara's own. "_You!_" she screeches when she sees her younger cousin. "_I'll kill you!_"

"Do no harm!" Shepard yells, springing up on her bed and preparing to dash away, only to trip over her oversized shirt. "Damnit!" She is on her feet again in an instant, but Eloise has grabbed something from off the top of a dresser, a grenade, Liara thinks at first, unsurprised that Shepard would bring grenades to her grandparents' home.

It is not a grenade. It is a small glass bottle. Eloise throws it at Shepard. The bottle collides with Shepard's face, snapping the teenager's head back; the room explodes with the scent of perfume. There's a cry of pain.

"Shepard!" Even though she knows it is pointless, Liara cannot keep herself from starting forward, from reaching out to help.

Something tugs her back. Shepard. The real Shepard. Smiling her wry smile. "Hey. It's okay. I'm okay. I heal." She lifts Liara's hand to her unmarked jaw. "It heals."

The younger version of Shepard has blood streaming down her face, but her eyes are glinting as if Eloise had just given her a gift. "That was a mistake," she says quietly. Under the blue pigment, the older human pales, as though only now realizing that she provoked a physical confrontation she cannot hope to win. Shepard launches herself at her cousin, and manages to get in a punch or two before her father and her uncle run into the room and struggle to separate their offspring. When they finally manage to pull the girls apart, Liara notices with satisfaction that a small trickle of blood runs from Eloise's nose.

"You moonshiny _idiot_," Dr. Upton mumbles as he drags Shepard into the hall. He turns her face towards the light and examines it. "That's going to need stitches. Come on." Despite his disapproving words and serious tone, there is a glint in his eye. Pride.

A wave of regret emanates from the adult Shepard. Liara glances at her. "We didn't talk, after I… died," the human says without looking at her. "I was angry he hadn't gone to the memorial…. I can't even remember the last conversation we had." She stares at her younger self moodily.

"Make 'em messy, okay, Dr. Dad?" The girl runs a thumb along the cut on her jaw and winces. The digit comes away covered in exotic crimson blood. "And none of that medi-gel stuff. I'm gonna want to keep this scar. Remind _perfect Cousin Eloise_ not to mess with me."

The man sighs. "Would it inconvenience you _terribly_ if you tried to get along with your cousin?"

"Yes. She's a bitch."

"You're horrible. And your language is outrageous. You get this from your mother's family. Violent thugs, all of them." He does not notice his daughter's frown at his careless words, but Liara senses the girl's hurt. When he speaks again, it sounds as though he is indulging his curiosity despite himself. "How did you turn her blue?"

Shepard grins mischievously up at her father. His slight is forgotten; she is eager to please. "Science!"

He laughs, and hugs her, getting blood on his shirt. "That's my girl."

**…**

Liara watches the evolution of Shepard's friendship with Ylva. The blond girl's assertive declaration that she and Shepard would be friends. Their bond being forged in the mud and rain and misery of training that makes Liara wince in sympathy. Spending leave time together, Shepard meeting Ylva's family, Ylva sharing an attic room in Shepard's grandparent's house and joining the noisy clan on camping trips. Laughing in excitement together when they are invited to be part of the Alliance's elite Interplanetary Combatives Training program. Planning a celebratory vacation.

Liara says nothing as she watches Shepard fall apart on Elysium. What could she say?

The commander brushes her hand against the asari's cheek. "What did I say about crying for me? Don't waste your time on it." She flinches when one of the Alliance soldiers her remembered self had been berating clubs her on the back of the head with his gun. "Don't worry," she says unconvincingly. "I heal."

**…**

The commander—not yet a commander, barely a recruit for the Alliance—stumbles into a dimly lit closet with a tall, nervous boy. They pull awkwardly at each other's clothes. The boy, _Tarou_, she finds his name in Shepard's thoughts, runs his tongue along the rim of the girl's ear. She gasps, half-laughing. A hand covers Liara's eyes.

"Give me_ some_ privacy, T'Soni."

"I am not the one who selected these memories," she retorts.

Glimpses of Shepard's former lovers race by quickly. Liara notices that most of the men have dark hair and kindly golden-brown eyes. "You have a type," she comments.

"Shut up," the human replies.

"No, no. This is fascinating. Should I be flattered or worried, I wonder."

"Worried. You should be worried."

The underlying truth of the comment needles the asari. "So you _are_ going to leave me for Kaidan, eventually?"

Silence. Hurt. Even though it was only a joke, Liara feels guilty. Then, she feels resentful. Why does she have to take the lead? Why cannot Shepard be the one to reassure _her _for once?

She watches Shepard climb a mountain with one of these men. They are happy together, loud, laughing, racing each other and pulling on the bags they carry to slow the other and gain an advantage. Liara wonders if Shepard wishes that she were loud. She likes the outdoors, but archeology is low to the ground, quiet and introspective. She has never been overly interested in sports or guns or other people. Not like Shepard. What do they even have in common?

Shepard and the man, "Niel. Niel Cartwright, the jackass," reach the top of the mountain. There are a number of other humans there, a family of turians, one or two asari.

"Elysium?" Liara asks.

Shepard nods. "Not Mt. Homer."

Neil and Shepard stand under the clear, bright sky, staring at the view below them. Liara senses contentment from the remembered Shepard, and bitterness from the real one. Neil kneels on the ground, and the remembered Shepard stares at him in surprise. Soon, both Shepards radiate anger.

The man asks Shepard to be his bondmate. It would seem humans, like asari, use jewelry as part of this tradition, although why they choose something as small as a ring is beyond Liara. It is barely visible at all, certainly not from a distance, how does a bonded human ward away unwanted attention? Do they flap their hands around? She should ask.

Real-Shepard glances at her. "You check someone's finger before you hit on them," she offers. "Unless you've got absolutely no class."

"Do you have class?" Liara asks.

"Depends. Are you wearing a ring?"

She does not know how to respond to that.

Remembered-Shepard throws the bond-ring off of the mountain and runs away. Liara does not sense guilt, or sorrow, but anger. There is no wound here. Nothing to heal.

"He ruined everything," her Shepard says. "We were friends and then we had sex, and then he _ruined_ it."

Oh.

**…**

Familiar scenes from the first _Normandy_ flash by. Kaidan figures prominently. So, to her surprise, does Liara.

"We were always friends," Shepard protests.

Liara wonders if she was so fixated on what she did _not_ have that she missed what she _did_ have.

"You can have whatever you want now," the human promises. "Just ask. I won't say no."

She cannot possibly understand what she is offering.

**…**

Finally, they stand in the emptiness of space, watching Shepard slowly die. Too slowly or too quickly, Liara wonders. Asari and human both breathe quickly and shallowly, panicked by the remembrance. The commander masters herself first.

"I'm all right," she tells Liara, putting the soft palms of her hands on Liara's cheeks, thumbs brushing along cheekbones. "I heal, I heal, I'm all right. Because you saved me." Emotions radiate from her to confuse Liara. Gratitude. Awe.

Love.

When she feels that, the asari has to look at Shepard, has to make sure it is real. The human looks shy. She looks afraid. She looks embarrassed.

"Ask me again," she says.

It takes a moment to remember. "What are you afraid of?"

Shepard gives Liara more images. Hazy ones, a human lifetime's worth of wishes of a shared life. When it ends, they are back on the mountain where Shepard rejected Neil. The mountain is empty, except for two figures, one with dark hair and one with blue skin. Shepard and Liara.

"Please," imagined-Shepard says.

"No" imagined-Liara backs away. "No, this is too serious. It is too much. I am too young."

"But I'm not _right_ without you."

"You will have to find a way to be right without me, Shepard. I am sorry."

The imagined Liara walks down the mountain by herself.

Everything goes dark.

**…**

Liara's vision clears. She perches on the edge of the table in Shepard's cabin. The soldier's face is bright red; but she manages to meet Liara's eyes. She manages not to pull her hand away.

"I—" The strangled tone of her voice makes the asari giggle, and the human scowls, the color in her cheeks darkening. She clears her throat and says, "I'm scared of _you_, T'Soni. If you, if you, ah, y'know, break my, ah, _heart_," she whispers the word, "I, um. That won't heal, I'm pretty sure."


	55. Property: Liara

**Property: Liara**

The room is silent for a moment as Shepard's shamefaced admission of vulnerability hangs in the air between them before beginning to fade quietly away.

Liara needs that moment. Needs more than just one moment. To think. To process the words that Shepard has said. To fully understand the awkward, stuttering sentence where she admitted that the quiet asari archeologist incapable of accomplishing anything significant without aid frightens her. Liara needs time to determine whether she is confused or proud or shocked or flattered.

There is no time though. As though something has pushed her past an unidentified high-water mark, words fall rapidly out of Shepard's mouth to flood the room.

"I—you saw… all that. And I—that was me. Me. All of, I'm not—you saw it. I'm not…. My parents. All my… We never talked about Kaidan, but you saw every—Neil. I know that I'm not a," she manages to find a deeper shade of red to blush, "knockout, or a—a charmer, or anything, but the guys I—I always find good ones, but eventually they think they see something in me that isn't really there, something that they want, and they let us turn into…" she frowns, her eyes distant.

(Not for the first time, Liara wonders how the woman capable of capturing the hearts of whole races, capable of convincing enemies to serve together and armies to follow her into battle can doubt her magnetism).

"They _try_ to turn us into something more than sex. Or friends who have sex, I'm not sure which. I don't want that. I never wanted that. It's too much. It's too much, and I love myself, and I love the Alliance, and I'm selfish and when they forget that, we fight, and I leave, and I don't understand why, but they always seem sad when I go. Like… it hurts, even though that doesn't make sense, because if they just took the time to realize… I'm not really that special. Not worth missing or hurting over, not really. Not for long.

"Good guys. I always hurt good guys, and you, I won't want to hurt you—I never want to hurt you, but I will, probably—the only way I know I won't is if you hurt me first."

Her words stop then, remarkably. Abruptly. In the silence, the asari glances down at her hand, its fingers twined through Shepard's. "I seem to recall your promising not to hurt me ever again," she comments. "Though I suppose you might only have meant that you would refrain from engaging me in physical combat in the future."

"Oh, God." The words slip quietly out of Shepard's mouth. When the she is particularly upset or embarrassed, she reaches for the nameless human deity, not the drell goddess she calls on most of the time. Liara sifts through secondhand memories, searching for an answer and finds hours of Shepard's childhood spent in huge stone buildings that smelled of incense and sweat, and had windows of colored glass. Chants and hymns. Familiarity. Safety. Family.

How can she have known Shepard for years without understanding how completely the woman focuses on her family? She has been in Shepard's mind—more than once—and yet the soldier is still a mystery. Greater than the riddle of the Prothean extinction. A new enigma for Liara to spend her lifetime—the human's lifetime, she corrects herself bitterly, sparing a moment to resent whatever trick of divinity or evolution is responsible for the disparity between her lifespan and Shepard's—A new enigma for Liara to spend half a century deciphering.

"Oh, God," Shepard moans again. "I said that out loud?"

Liara cannot help laughing. She moves from where she is sitting, taking a seat on a narrow sliver of the couch, pressing her body against the commander's leg.

"Look, I don't—If this is going to work, you can't ever believe anything I say unless I say it a hundred times. I'm not… words aren't my thing, T'Soni. I'm just no good with—"

Unbearable! Liara presses her lips to Shepard's chin, to her cheeks, to the space between her nose and her upper lip, tracing the outline of her mouth without touching it. As she had hoped, Shepard calms as Liara kisses her. "Sometimes," the asari says, "you talk too much."

"Me? You're the one who babbles when she gets nervous. And anyway, if you think that I'm too chatty, shouldn't you try negative reinforcement to shut me up? If you do something I like every time I—" This time, a light slap to the back of the head quiets the soldier. "Ow!"

"You said to try negative reinforcement."

"I was kidding! A couple weeks ago, I said that we should find out if the Reapers have taste buds, and try to kill them with nutrient paste! I haven't seen you stockpiling meal substitutes, though."

She shakes her head. "Why do you keep bringing that up? Regardless, not everything you say is a joke, remember?"

"Oh my God, I hate you so much."

"Poor Shepard," with her free hand, the information broker envelopes the commander in an affectionate, if incredibly sarcastic, hug. "You are so abused."

"I really am," the human mutters sullenly. "Can we just forget what I said now?"

"No. I must tell you what I remember. I remember that you promised not to hurt me," Liara repeats, pulling away and caressing the human's face with her free hand.

(When her little finger brushes against the rim of the human's ear, Shepard closes her eyes and inhales sharply. The asari files the observation away for closer examination at a later time.)

"You do not break your promises, Shepard."

"I—but—"

"Hush." She leans forward until her forehead, the tip of her nose, her lips, all just barely brush against their counterparts on Shepard's face. "No one is going to get hurt." The expression in the soldier's eyes: trust, and hope, and fear, is heady enough to make Liara feel more intoxicated than she did yesterday evening. She exhales softly and lets gravity take control, lets it draw her mouth to the human's.

At first, Shepard's mouth remains closed, but when Liara presses her tongue against the soldier's sealed lips they open to her, and she revels in the cool, smooth, extraordinarily straightforward, new-but-familiar flavor.

"Mmph." She feels Shepard's nose wrinkle against her face, lips moving, in distaste Liara realizes, not affection. A hand finds her shoulder; it pushes her away. "Goddess of oceans," despite her air of dismay, warm sparks of green soften her gaze, "you taste _nasty_, T'Soni. Didn't you brush your teeth last night? I know your toothbrush is in there."

"Toothbrush?" The unfamiliar word is the only one Liara is capable of parroting back. Why does Shepard always _do_ this? Why does she cut things off just when they are—

"Get up," the human orders. When Liara obeys, Shepard lifts the blanket off her legs and swings her feet to the floor. "C'mon." She makes her slow way to the bathroom.

"For someone who claims to abhor rudeness, you certainly choose to indulge in such behavior at decidedly regular intervals. One might even say that you, Commander Shepard are a very rude—"

Grinning, Shepard stops at her bathroom door to grab the bottom of Liara's shirt, bunching it in her fist and tugging the asari towards her. They both pretend that she doesn't wince as the information broker bumps into her and presses her against the door. The human rises up on her toes so that they regard each other on an equal level. Her eyes remain fixed on Liara, not closing until the last possible moment as she brings the two of them together in a prolonged, open-mouthed kiss.

"I'm Commander Shepard, and Dr. Liara T'Soni is my favorite flavor on the _Normandy_." The words are ghosted against the hollow of the asari's throat, a more comfortable height for the human. "Even when she tastes gross because of poor dental hygiene." The impudent soldier ducks Liara's indignant swing with a hint of her usual combat grace before surging upwards for another kiss.

"Okay, even my endurance has its limits," Shepard pants when they pause to breathe. "You've gotta brush your teeth, or we're done for now."

"What does that _mean?_" Liara asks as the human leads the way into the bathroom, takes a small stick off of one of the storage shelves and extends it to the information broker.

"Stop playing coy. This thing says 'Property of Liara T'Soni,' on it." the woman turns the object in her fingers and Liara glimpses human writing on it. "Look; it's right there, plain as day!"

She takes the small object, realizing that it is wider and flat on one end, with stiff bristles attached there, like a very, very small bheizem, that the caretaker on her mother's estate used to use to sweep fallen flowers out of the courtyard. A brush, humans call it.

"See? _There_," Shepard insists, pointing to the writing. To her surprise, Liara recognizes the lettering. It is one of the few words repeated so often in reports authored by the Shadow Broker's human agents that she could not avoid learning it. "'Property of Liara T'Soni.'"

No. The word is _Shepard._


	56. Tender: Shepard

**Tender: Shepard**

"I—I'm scared of _you_, T'Soni. If you—I—if you, y'know… If you break my, ah… heart, I. Um. That won't heal, I'm pretty sure."

Just like that, it's out there. Honesty, almost as powerful and terrifying as the only person in the galaxy who could talk Shepard into killing herself. The soldier almost smiles at her warped sense of humor. Then she realizes how utterly true it is. She'd do anything Liara asked her to. Her fear returns in full force.

Too many minutes tick by as they sit together in silence. Shepard tells herself that it is all right, that the quiet doesn't mean anything, that she has sat in silence with Liara many, tens, dozens, hundreds of times before, and the quiet has not meant anything. As long as she's being honest, the commander has to admit that she usually enjoys sharing peaceful moments with Liara. She likes it that they can be together but by themselves at the same time.

Why isn't Liara saying anything? If revenge was the asari's style, the human might think that letting her squirm like this is revenge for her bad temper last night. It—even though she knows Liara is the stronger one, the one with emotions that work, she had to have a _lot_ to drink before she could get her courage to a point where she could be honest with Shepard. And it took Shepard all night, but she clawed her way to a point where she could admit that she either had to open up or let Liara go. As usual, Shepard had been selfish, cowardly—she can do the noble soldier bit everywhere but in her personal life.

If Shepard was really a hero, she'd stay away from Liara, go back to just being friends, keep her distance, do whatever it takes to keep from hurting Liara. At this point though, after this morning, the only way she can be sure she won't hurt Liara is if Liara is the one to walk away. To keep safe, Liara has to hurt Shepard.

That thought actually makes Shepard's breath stick in her throat. And the sudden cessation of her breathing gives her an opportunity to appreciate the fact that the roaring in her ears has apparently not been the deafening sound of silence. It's the sound of her own two-timing voice, muttering everything she's been thinking out loud. At least, loud enough for Liara to hear, if the way the asari squeezes her hand and smiles as though for once the joke didn't need explaining are hints.

"You already promised that you would never hurt me," she reminds Shepard, not looking her in the eye.

"Oh my God." The only reason Shepard doesn't hide her face in her hands or a pillow or something—Well, there are two reasons if she's being honest. Guilt makes her fix her eyes on Liara's face, checking once again to make certain that there are no traces of bruising left anywhere on her chin and jaw. There's no question that the commander will never forgive herself for hitting the one person she might actually—the one person she really does care about. Secondly, and probably more importantly, she still hasn't gotten over how good it feels just to hold Liara's hand, and she doesn't want to let go quite yet.

"Please," Shepard begs God, Liara, Harbinger, whoever's in charge of these things, "tell me I didn't say that out loud!"

The asari's laugh as she moves to half-sit on the commander is enough of an answer.

Shepard focuses on ignoring the sensations screaming through every place where their bodies come into contact, and scrambles to explain away anything that she might have let slip unintentionally. More or less admitting that Liara has absolute power over her was hard enough. A person can only expose so much of her inconveniently soft and vulnerable underbelly in one go.

As the words start to tumble incoherently out of Shepard's mouth, Liara scowls. What did Shepard do wrong now? She can't even remember what she was saying. She decides to just keep apologizing; that's likely her only hope of salvaging this conversation.

And then Liara is right there, sweet and strong and reassuring. She starts kissing Shepard, teasing and playing with her until the commander is forced to abandon all discussion. "You talk too much," the asari admonishes as she pecks Shepard's chin for a final time.

"Says the one who can ramble for _hours_ when she gets nervous. Anyway, you obviously like it when I babble, because I notice that you decided not to use negative reinforcement to shut me up. I mean, if that's what you're going to do every time I—Ow! You heartless monster, I'm already injured!"

"You were babbling again," Liara counters smugly. Even though Liara had barely swatted her hard enough for the contact to be noticeable, she responds to Shepard's complaints by caressing the place her hand had just lighted. "Didn't you just say I should try using negative reinforcement to train you?"

"I definitely did not say that. I'm not a _puppy_, Liara, I'm completely housebroken. And if by some coincidence I _did_ say something a bit similar to whatever you think you heard, I was definitely kidding. C'mon, you have to remember that I'm the one who suggested using nutrient paste to defeat the Reapers—assuming that we can prove they have tastebuds. I haven't seen your stockpile of meal substitutes though!

"If you mention poisoning the Reapers again, I am going to begin to think that you are not jesting. Which reminds me… not everything you say is a joke, correct?"

The human scowls. "Want to know what I hate more than you?" she asks. "Nothing."

"My poor, abused Shepard," Liara laughs again, and leans in to hug her—without letting go of their joined hands. It takes real dedication to maintain her offended posturing in the face of that affection, but Shepard does her best.

"This is nice. Does this unexpected kindness mean you've forgotten all the stupid things I said a few minutes ago?"

She misses the warmth of Liara's body the minute the asari pulls away, but the feeling of a hand teasing its way through her hair, a finger lightly tracing the rim of her ear, is so good it forces Shepard to bite her cheek to keep from gasping.

"You promised me. I have yet to learn of your ever breaking a promise."

"You think too highly of me, T'Soni."

"Perhaps you merely do not think highly enough of yourself."

The commander opens her mouth to comment on this odd role reversal they seem to be experiencing, but Liara orders her to stop talking. She brings their faces so close together that Shepard is more than happy to obey, since it looks like there's another kiss in her future. "No one is going to get hurt," the asari promises. Her voice is full of certainty; the human decides to trust her.

As soon as Shepard gives a slight nod, Liara rewards her with a kiss. For a moment the soldier thinks it's masterful use of positive reinforcement, but then her tongue crashes up against the asari's and blunders its way into Liara's mouth, and she realizes that the distinctive spicy taste she's come to expect from these kisses is masked by an awful, heavy flavor, like bad milk. At first she thinks she's imagining it. Then she hopes it might fade. When it lingers, she has no choice but to push Liara away.

"Goddess of oceans, I'm sorry, but you taste _nasty_ today. You didn't brush your teeth last night, did you?" She didn't brush this morning either, but there's no need to bring that up. Or—Maybe… A small idea for a joke occurs to her, and she forces herself not to smile. "What's wrong with you? I know you have a toothbrush in the bathroom!"

"Toothbrush?" Liara looks dazed. Shepard tells herself that she doesn't feel guilty about this at all. Even if she does, the payoff here will be worth it, she's certain. Mostly certain.

"Don't be coy. C'mon, get up." She starts squirming until Liara has no choice but to stand, and then leads the way to the bathroom, trying not to laugh at the asari's indignant remonstrations. Then she wonders if her words really were hurtful. She didn't mean to be! Nervously, Shepard turns and gets ready to explain that she was only joking. The asari looks put-out, but not really angry. Shepard smiles in relief.

"Come here, Dr. T'Sulking." She uses the asari's shirt to pulls Liara to her; it's wrinkled anyway. They bump into the wall, and Shepard's wound—damn inconvenient thing, when is Huerta Memorial going to come through with those nanite healing accelerators Chakwas requested, and is Shepard really thinking about a shot right now?—Regardless, Shepard's wound twinges a little, but then she stands on tiptoe to stare directly into Liara's eyes so that her Shadow Broker can understand that she was only teasing, and she kisses her despite the terrible taste, because…because _Liara_.

Eventually though, she needs to breathe, and she needs to settle back down on the ground, so she tears herself away and kisses Liara's neck once or twice. "I'm Commander Shepard, and Dr. Liara T'Soni is my favorite flavor on the _Normandy_." Her favorite flavor in the galaxy, actually, but such a strong celebrity endorsement might be off-putting. "Even when she tastes gross because she won't brush her teeth like a normal person." It was too tempting to resist!

It doesn't take military training to appreciate the way Liara telegraphs her punches. The soldier dodges easily, bringing herself down low before rushing to kiss Liara again, thinking about the time she dodged and responded with a fist of her own when she should have just done this. Screw the Reapers, maybe she'll just keep doing this until the world ends.

(The galaxy doesn't realize how lucky it is that Liara tastes absolutely gross right now. Although, that's a bit arrogant. If Shepard didn't step up to save the day, someone would. Kaidan probably. He's the one who originally got sucked in by the beacon back on Eden Prime.)

Thinking about Eden Prime, the beacon, Kaidan, and Ash is enough to throw cold water onto _anything_. They break apart again, and Shepard pushes open the bathroom door. "If you don't brush your teeth, this is all going to end."

"How does a person 'brush their teeth?'" There's a hint of a whine in Liara's voice, and more than a hint of exasperation. Shepard wonders how the asari clean their teeth if they don't use toothbrushes. She thinks of Traynor and her insanely expensive mass effect field tooth cleaning device.

"This isn't cute, T'Soni," she says with mock seriousness as she takes out her toothbrush and extends it to the asari. "This thing clearly says 'Property of Liara T'Soni' on it. See?" She turns so that the label on the handle faces Liara.

Blue hands lift the toothbrush from her hands, examining it. Her omni-tool stays inactive, and Shepard starts to worry that her joke is going to fall flat. "See?" she asks again, pointing to her name, "'Property of Liara T'Soni.'"

The asari looks up at her, frowning. "It does not say that."

"No, it really does. Anyway, how would you know? You can't read—" Liara's eyes narrow, and Shepard immediately adds, "—human writing. Trust me. Put those letters together in that way, and it means 'Property of Liara T'Soni.'"

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah!"

"So…" Liara replaces the toothbrush and lifts one of Shepard's combs from the shelf, "this also belongs to me?" She draws her finger along the label bearing Shepard's name.

The commander nods. "Same writing."

"What about…" she finds the tag on Shepard's towel and turns it to face the human, "this?"

"You really are a quick learner."

"Mm. If not someone with a particularly keen memory. You would think I would recall obtaining all these items and transferring them to your cabin."

"Apparently no one's completely perfect. You're shattering all my romantic illusions."

"Romantic…" her face doesn't really change, but Liara does that slight eye-narrowing thing she does to smile in the most quiet way a person can. She moves very close to Shepard, draws a finger along the human's collarbone, drags her finger along the collar of Shepard's shirt. She tugs the shirt down, a little, hooks her finger around the chain of Shepard's dog tags. God, pulling the stupid things out has never been sexy before. Shepard balls her hands into fists at her sides, and fights the urge to step backwards to hide from the sensations that are setting her chest on fire.

Liara takes a step closer to her. "If I recall correctly, these are the equivalent of _your_ label." She fingers one of the metal disks and places her thumb under Shepard's name. "I remember you informing me that the first line of a tag contains the individual's name. However, today you seem to think that these writings translate as something that means anything bearing them is a possession of mine." She tugs on the tag a little, and gives a very shy smile. "Are you certain you have not mistranslated?"

Shepard takes the other tag in her hand and pretends to check before looking Liara dead in the eye and saying, "Nope, I'm sure. That says you happen to own whoever's wearing these." She gulps nervously, licks her lips.

"I see." Liara smiles and drops the tag. Shepard leans forward for a kiss, but the asari smirks and reaches past her for the mouthwash. "Apologies, Shepard. I have little interest in learning to utilize your—my—toothbrush, but I do know how to use this, and know it to be effective."

"So mean," Shepard whimpers.

"Poor Shepard. Do not worry." The smirk takes on a flirtatious quality as Liara uncaps the mouthwash and pours it into a cup. "It is also more efficient than your suggestion."

* * *

_**Author's Note: **So these two fluffy chapters are dedicated to one of the fluffiest people (deep, deep down) that I know. BloodyHighClaw, known to some of you on the BSN as Yuqi, is my own personal needler. The last two chapter sets were only posted in a somewhat timely manner because she kept bothering me. _

_On another note, you should all be reading everything Dr. Jekyl and owelpost write if you aren't already._

_As always thank you all for reviewing and/or reading._


	57. Caught: Shepard

**Caught: Shepard**

"Commander? If you have a moment?"

Sure, Shepard has a moment. She has all the time in the world. The busywork for the day that Kaidan left her with has been finished for hours. Dr. Chakwas came up for a while to gleefully stab the soldier with all sorts of unpleasantly oversized needles that were allegedly full of tiny medical robots designed to heal the last vestiges of her Onterom injury with incredible speed. Liara left ages ago, to use her information network and that big brain of hers to save more people every minute than Shepard has in her entire lifetime. Although the commander tried everything she could think of—even teaching the asari how to make a proper hospital corner—Liara still left.

"EDI, you can open the door." Shepard is bored. And lonely. Come on in, Specialist.

She expects to see the demure, occasionally insolent, but ultimately dutiful communications tech that has worked at her side in the CIC since this war began. Instead a jubilant stranger with unkempt hair, a wrinkled uniform and a broad grin practically dances into the loft, waving a datapad around like the banner for her favorite skyball team.

"Commander!"

"Uh, Specialist? You needed to see me?"

"Yes ma'am!" Traynor settles onto the end of Shepard's bed without even asking for permission. The soldier wonders if the other woman has been indoctrinated by a Reaper with a sense of humor.

"Technically I'm off-duty. Major Alenko is the one to talk—"

"Oh, yes, ma'am, I know, but EDI told me that Huerta Memorial has finally come through with the nanite accelerator shots Dr. Chakwas has been waiting for, and—" Shepard resolves to have a talk with the AI about respecting the confidentiality of her medical records, "—and so I know you're going to be up on your feet soon. I would have brought this to you anyway though, since you're always in charge of the ground team, and this has a direct bearing on where to go next, although now that I think of it, you do tend to wait for orders from command, which isn't what I expected when I realized I'd be serving under you, given what I'd heard… although of course those are just rumors! I'm sure there's no truth to any of them! I've loved serving on the _Normandy! _Still, I suppose—"

"When was the last time you slept, Traynor?" Does everyone on this ship have a hard time sleeping? Maybe Shepard should have Chakwas dope the rations or something. Although that would probably kill Garrus, Tali, and possibly Javik; no one knows if or what he eats.

"Slept, ma'am?" The younger woman blinks as though Shepard has suggested she try to grow mandibles. "Ah… well, that would depend on what day it is, I suppose. Let's see, the mission to Onterom was on a Thursday, I believe, and…"

"Never mind. What have you got for me?"

Traynor's smile takes on a feral edge. "Kai Leng," she replies.

**…**

For a VI that prides itself on being overly helpful, Glyph is making it surprisingly difficult to break into Liara's encrypted files. Shepard has been sitting on the asari's bed for an eternity, trying to figure out what the required password might be.

"You'll tell me if I guess right, though, won't you?" she asks for the millionth time.

"Of course, Commander. If you input the correct code, you will be granted access to any files in my archives that you might request."

"Do a girl a solid, little buddy. Give me a hint. It doesn't have to be a big one."

"Apologies, Commander. That is outside the scope of my programming."

"Ugh, fine. And you're sure it's not 'I love the Protheans?'"

"Quite sure, Commander."

"Does it have anything to do with Protheans?"

"Apologies, Commander. The answer to that question is outside the scope of my programming."

"Um… what about 'Reapers suck?'"

"That is incorrect, Commander."

"Oh! Try 'Stop touching my things, Shepard.'"

"That is incorrect, Commander."

"Damnit!"

"That is incorrect, Commander."

"That's not what I—" The soft sound of someone clearing her throat makes Shepard look up. "_Hey_, Liara," she says, trying to smile winningly. …And she's been caught. Typical. Why the admiralty ever gave her command of a stealth ship is anyone's guess.

"Hello, Shepard. Would you care to explain what you are doing?"

"That depends. Will I be in more or less trouble if I tell you what you want to know?"

The asari props a hand on her hip. "I have not decided yet."

Nothing ventured, nothing gained. "Well, I figured that I shouldn't be the only one without any privacy…."

"What are you talking about?"

"My book? With the poems and the pictures?"

"As I recall, you allowed me to examine that."

"Yeah, after you were already halfway through it! Look at you and your selective memory." Shepard grins and Liara blushes. "Just be glad I didn't get Tali to help me. I mean, what if we hacked into your files and stumbled across your stash of, I dunno, elcor-fetish—"

"If you complete that thought, I may have to hurt you." Liara rolls her shoulders, deposits the datapads she carries onto her desk, and hangs her coat off the back of her chair. It's odd for her not to wear it. Shepard can't help staring.

"Glyph," Liara calls the VI.

"Yes, Doctor T'Soni?"

"Enter code: _Thou that mak'st a day of night, Goddess excellently bright._" When it validates her passcode, she sits next to Shepard.

"I would have guessed that eventually."

"Of course you would have." The asari smiles. "You should know though, I do not keep any personal information on the primary information network."

Shepard grimaces. "Of course you don't. Damn slippery asari. I don't suppose you'd be willing to just tell me what your embarrassing secrets are?"

Liara closes her eyes and reclines on the bed. "Try asking me, and see what happens," she smiles.

She looks so sweet, so vulnerable, lying back like that. "It's not that important," Shepard admits. "And you look tired. Want me to go?"

"If I recall correctly, Dr. Chakwas has ordered you to rest. You could do that here." Eyes still closed, Liara pulls her legs up onto the bed.

"I'm not tired."


	58. Repose: Liara

**Repose: Liara**

"No, pull it back more. The angle's got to be sharper."

"What like… Is this better?"

"Eh. Not bad, I guess. But look, remember how I did it? Smooth and tight. That's how you want it. I can do it for you again if you want. You can have a crack at doing it yourself next time."

"No, I remember. I can do it. Get away, I can do it!"

"Look, you might think you've got it down, but if you do it wrong, I'm the one who's gotta live with it. Lift it higher and pull it tighter for God's sake, you stubborn asari!"

"Out of the two of us do you really believe that I am the stubborn one?"

"Raise your hand if you've never changed careers and single-mindedly hounded the galaxy's most powerful information broker because he picked on your friends. Oh, look, I'm the only one raising my hand!"

"Am I to understand that you feel chasing Saren across the Terminus Systems was not the least bit obsessive? Regardless, 'picked on' is an inadequate description of desecrating your corpse and torturing Feron for more than two years!"

"Hey, chasing Saren was my _job_. And you didn't think it was too obsessive when I was _rescuing you from him_."

"Saren was not even present on Therum."

"Only 'cause he was scared of me! Now c'mon, let me do it if you're just gonna stand there and argue."

"You know, Shepard, I am doing the best I can. I would appreciate it if you would at least try to be a bit more flexible. You only just showed me how to do this. I thought you wanted my help, but from the way you are acting, I cannot help suspecting that as soon as my back is turned, you will just redo it all."

"I'd never—There! See how that's nice and tight? That's exactly right."

"Well, it looks foolish."

"What are you talking about? It looks exactly the way it's supposed to. Now all you need to do is lift the mattress and push the rest of it under. Neatly. And remember to keep it tight. All the way from down here to up there. Do you want me to just do it for you?"

"Goddess, Shepard, I am more than capable of doing this on my own!"

"Well, I just hate it when things aren't done right!"

"I hate it when people fail to relinquish control over unimportant details!"

"_Hospital corners are not unimportant! Also, __**you're**__ the big control freak!_"

"_That is ridiculous! I am perfectly comfortable with delegation. Relinquishing control makes __**you **__uncomfortable!_"

"_Just tuck in the damn sheet!_"

"_I think it might be better for both of us if you tuck it in yourself. Goddess forbid—I might do it somewhat differently than you do!_"

"_Why do you insist on driving me crazy?_"

"_Trust me, Shepard; you arrived at that particular destination without any aid from me!_"

"_You __**volunteered**__ to help me! I could have done it on my own!_"

"_You practically begged me to help you, you capricious idiot!_"

"_Only because you were talking about going back to work!_"

"_I have a great deal of work to do!_"

"_Couldn't you just work from up here?_"

"_Glyph is downstairs, along with all my monitors. You know that!_"

"_Chakwas isn't letting me leave the loft until I get the accelerator shot._"

"_What does that have to do with anything?_"

"I—don't want you to go yet."

"_Well that is just_—What?"

"I…Maybe I missed you these past couple days. _Maybe_. Only a little though. If at all."

"Would it have been so bad just to say that in the first place?"

"Yes. Yes it would have."

"I do not understand you at all."

"Talk to any human guy. Women are mysterious."

"I must point out that 'mysterious' and 'insane' are not perfect synonyms."

"Close enough."

Liara closes her eyes in exasperation. "You know, I really do have work to do, Shepard. I…well, for obvious reasons, I did not review my information feeds last night."

"I would have paid to hear what you told your informants if you'd checked in with them last night."

"Because of course they would have continued to respect me if I had been physically ill while receiving updates."

"_I_ still respect you."

"Not enough to be straightforward with me." The commander finds her protests cut off with a kiss before she can do more than draw breath. "That was a joke," Liara clarifies helpfully.

"I do respect you."

"I know."

"Good."

"I _am_ leaving now, Shepard."

"I know."

"I will be back."

"Okay." How does the woman manage to look so forlorn? Her hunched shoulders imply that only a monster would abandon her now.

"Smile, Shepard," Liara orders. "I promise today will be a good day." First thing when she returns to her cabin, she will tell her agent in Huerta to release the medicine to Dr. Chakwas within the hour. Much as she wants the commander to keep resting, Shepard is clearly in pain. Not to mention lonely and stir-crazy. The information broker suppresses a sigh. Everything would be easier if the human would just agree to letting Liara keep an eye on her at all times. She only suffers serious injuries when the asari is not a member of the ground team.

"Oh, well," the soldier leans against the doorway, hand folded around Liara's, tightly enough to make clear that she does not want to let go, but loose enough that it is easy to pull out of her grip. "If _you_ promise. I trust you, T'Soni."

The elevator closes before Liara can remind Shepard that she will not ever lie to her; she loves her.

**…**

"Would you care to explain what you are doing?" Not that an explanation is truly required. From what she overheard before Shepard noticed her presence, Liara knows that the human was using truly pathetic hacking skills to attempt to infiltrate the Shadow Broker network.

Fortunately a long, tiring day (preceded by a night plagued by restless dreams and acute nausea) helps the asari keep an amused smile off of her face as Shepard offers up one ludicrous explanation for her intrusion after another. They are… comfortable again. As Liara pulls off her jacket and stifles a yawn, she tries to remember the last time she felt this content. Not since before Thessia, she realizes, when she and Shepard tried to imagine life after the war. She glances back at the human and blushes, realizing that her hopes for the future have altered a bit since that discussion.

"I mean, what if we hacked into your files and stumbled across your stash of, I dunno, elcor-fetish—"

As if she could have an elcor fetish, or a turian fetish, or an anything-other-than-Shepard fetish. "It would be wise not to complete that thought," Liara says. Shepard's eyes are dark, tired, but at her warning tone, impishness lightens them a little.

The Shadow Broker feeds her VI the proper password. Lines of human poetry. Something Ashley had said once as she teased Liara about her affections for Shepard. For someone who claimed to be simple and stubborn, the gunnery chief had been remarkably perceptive. Or perhaps Liara really had been that obvious.

Liara settles down onto the bed, next to Shepard, absurdly proud of herself for not curling up with her head in the human's lap.

"You look tired," the soldier comments. "Should I go?"

"Shot or no shot, Dr. Chakwas still believes you should rest. Why not rest here?"

"I'm not tired."

_I haven't been sleeping that well_. Liara wishes that she had imagined the haunted look in the human's eyes as she said the words. "Do not lie to me, Shepard," she warns as she tucks her legs close to her body and turns on her side. "We cannot—I want you to talk to me. No matter what."

A hand brushes over Liara's face, cups her cheek, traces her markings with a thumb. "If you really do hurt when I hurt, why would I tell you things that might upset you?" She can imagine the fond, indulgent smile on Shepard's face.

"You will tell me such things," the asari insists quietly. "Either you respect me as an equal or you do not. I cannot be the only one to share her pain."

The hand withdraws. Liara refuses to open her eyes and gauge her companion's expression. Trust. She trusts Shepard. The human is the safest, the most secure harbor in the storm that life has become. She trusts Shepard.

"I didn't come here to break into your files," Shepard admits.

"You have many remarkable abilities, love, but hacking is not one of them," Liara agrees.

"I wanted my sleep aid."

"Is the pain of your injury still so bad? No," she answers her own question. It should not be. It is not. It cannot be. Not after so much time, and especially not after receiving the treatment that had been withheld in favor of forced rest. "Nightmares?"

The soldier's sigh is the only answer needed. "I never had them before this war. Never had dreams either, though." A light touch skims against Liara's face again.

The pills are in Liara's bathroom. She lifts her head, but cannot bring herself to open her eyes. "Let me—"

"Don't bother," Shepard replies.

A familiar body presses against Liara. Hair brushes against her face. Her nose fills with the scents of soap, sweat, and spent heat sinks. Of course Shepard smells like smoke, even after so long away from the battlefield. They should move, undress, put their heads on pillows and their bodies under the blanket, turn off the monitors, close the curtains, brush their teeth—the asari smiles to herself—do all the proper things that people do before falling asleep. Instead she puts her arm over Shepard's body in a perfect, instinctive adjustment. The human laces her fingers through Liara's own.

"Are you sure you do not require the sedatives?" The asari forces herself to ask, although she would almost rather kill Shepard than get up at this point.

"'M sure. 'S better."

"Good night, Shepard."

The human makes an incoherent noise in reply. Liara wonders how she always seems able to drop off to sleep so quickly.

Just before she falls asleep, Shepard's voice interrupts the silence. "You awake?"

Memory makes her smile, but Liara remains silent.

A few more minutes pass before, "Liara?"

When she says nothing, the human relaxes and lightly squeezes the hand she holds. Liara almost holds her breath, waiting happily.

"Love you, T'Soni."


	59. Planning: Shepard

**Planning: Shepard**

When Vega's fist bloodies her lip, Shepard grins, despite the fact that the expression splits her skin even further.

"What're you happy about, Lola?" the younger marine pants. He punches her in the gut and she doubles over. "You're on the ropes, _chica!_"

"Think you're gonna get the _Normandy_ belt? Dream on, Jimmy!" Shepard ducks the man's next, overconfident swing, then practically leaps straight up to counter more quickly than he was expecting. He reels back, and her second punch sends him sprawling on the ground. Since Project Lazerus made its 'improvements,' friendly sparring matches have required that she keep her strength carefully in check. Vega though, bless his heart, is built like a tank, and can nearly take the full force of her punches. Not to mention that he's got a bottomless supply of good humor. When his eyes stop rolling around in his head, he grins at her.

"Guess I still have a few things to learn."

"Old girl's still got some dance moves you haven't seen," she teases, doing a horrible imitation of a tap-dancer before she offers him a hand up.

"Aw, you're not that old," Vega says as they make their way to the elevator. "But I do want to see those moves of yours." He stands behind her, breathing on the back of her neck, just barely too close. "Preferably in some kind of up-close, private lesson. You know, the kind where you have to keep adjusting my—"

"Being cute only buys you so many free passes, Jimbo," she warns as the elevator starts slowing. "I'd hate to have to break that pretty face of yours."

"She thinks I'm pretty!" he shouts, throwing his arms out like the hero of some musical vid. "She thinks I'm pretty!"

Shepard laughs and pushes him out onto the crew deck. "Go take a cold shower before I knock you on your ass again."

"Yes, ma'am!" He salutes before sauntering away.

When the doors close, she shakes her head, trying to get a grip on how _happy_ she feels. It feels so _good_ to have knocked Vega on his ass. She feels like herself again. When she gets to Horizon, she'll feed Kai Leng's sword to him, if she feels like it.

And she _will_ feel like it.

**…**

"Shepard, this is not funny!" The door to the bathroom is thick enough to muffle Liara's frustrated yelling and banging, but not thick enough to eliminate the noise entirely.

The commander can't help grinning as she bustles around the loft, enjoying the way moving around has become an easy, thoughtless process once again. "That depends on your perspective, really, T'Soni."

"I am not going to be trapped in here forever," the asari threatens, "and when I am out, your perspective will be that of an individual who has been stuffed into the garbage compactor and ejected into the vacuum of space."

Despite herself, Shepard shivers. Her hands go to the back of her neck, scrabbling for an oxygen leak that isn't there, and couldn't be patched if it was. Embarrassed at being so easily trapped by an old memory, let alone intimidated by it, she has to pull back on her temper and repress the spiteful impulse to leave her—her more-than-friend in the bathroom for a while longer.

Her more-than-friend. Not the most romantic or conventional title for whatever she has with Liara, but Shepard's never had much use for labels that don't directly correspond to military rankings. More-than-friend is more than good enough. She's never introduced anyone to Big Shepard who didn't fall firmly into the friend (or friend-I-have-sex-with-sometimes-please-stop-asking-now-Mom) category. The asari…doesn't fit into either one of those categories. Maybe she never did. Goddess of oceans, Shepard is stupid. Oh, well. It's not like that's news. And she's trying to make up for it. She looks over the cabin one more time and nods to herself. Then she pushes open the door to the bathroom.

Before Shepard has a chance to understand what is going on, Liara has grabbed her by the wrist, yanked her into the bathroom, and slammed her against the panel that covers the shelves that hold Shepard's things.

She didn't even use biotics. How embarrassing. If Gunny Ellison were here, Shepard and her survival pack would be dropped onto the nearest planet that had a climate capable of supporting rain and mud with orders not to even dream of extraction until she'd run far enough to wear holes in her boots.

Her first impulse is to compliment the asari. Then she looks at the expression on her more-than-friend's face. She's so pale her freckles look painted on. Shit. She's really angry about something.

"Let me in."

Liara's eyes are darker than they should be. Shepard feels (is that the right word?) a familiar touch brush against her thoughts. Even though she knows she must look stupider than usual, Shepard can't keep her eyes from widening. It's not that she hasn't been thinking about, you know, going there with Liara, but despite everything, despite it being the end of the world, she's in no hurry. She glances at the hand pressing against her chest, pinning her to the wall, and suddenly she really, _really_ wants to feel that hand against her skin. Oh, what is wrong with Shepard?

Talk about anything else! "Hey, Liara, what's wrong? Are you mad about this? I was only—"

"Let me in."

Of course. Didn't Shepard promise Liara anything she wanted so long as she asked for it?

_Ask me, Liara_. _Don't lie to me, Shepard_. Those are the rules of their more-than-friendship—

There's no air in the bathroom anymore! The walls are too close, too tight, too dark. Worse than the brig of the ship that carted her to Earth for her court-martial. At least there had been a window in that cell. Worse than the time she was trapped in that stasis field on Therum waiting for days for someone to realize that she was in danger, spending the time she wasn't meditating to ward off starvation trying to understand how the krogan and geth hunting her seemed to think they could survive threatening the first daughter of Matriarch Benezia—

No, wait. She isn't Liara. That was… That was just what Liara had been fighting after Shepard tricked her in here. Her hand touches the back of her neck. Skin. Hair. Combat shell. No oxygen line. She isn't dying again. The asari's eyes are the only darkness in the room. Shepard isn't trapped. Shepard can breathe.

Liara is shaking. Oh, shit, she's really claustrophobic, isn't she? A horrible part of Shepard files the information away for teasing the archaeologist later, even as she positions the asari against the wall and rubs her shoulders, her arms, her face.

"Come back. It's all right. I'm sorry. I'm an idiot. It's fine; you're fine. You can come back. Please."

After far too long, Shepard is wrapped in a sense of peaceful affection. Are their minds still linked? Liara blinks, and her eyes are blue, and the sensation is gone.

The Shadow Broker puts a hand over the soldier's mouth, silencing her mid-apology. She's always doing that. "You idiot," Liara says affectionately.

"Yeah, well, I'm your idiot, right?"

"Of course."

"That's all I care about, then."

A sudden restraint on Shepard's arm keeps her from walking into the loft.

"What is all this?"

Oh, right. Shepard forgot. "Surprise?" she ventures.

"I see," the asari says in a tone that makes it clear she actually doesn't.

"Ah, yes. Well. It's possible that we, um, totally skipped over even the idea of dating? And I know it's the middle of the war, and you have terrible taste in movies, but I want to do this right? I want to do this right," she repeats, trying to sound assertive. "I thought that maybe we could eat up here tonight—"

"With candles?"

"Are there candles? I didn't notice." The soldier clears her throat and pretends she isn't blushing. "_Anyway_, we could eat up here, and so I…built a blanket fort? I don't know, I wanted to do something different. And, you know, for after…" She gestures at the fort, which really does look pathetic for something that took an adult woman nearly an hour to construct, and this is why you can't have nice things, Shepard.

Liara bends down and looks at the large, folded sections of cardboard that were repurposed from the storage box that had been holding the last of Shepard's possessions down in the cargo bay. She looks at the paint Shepard stole from requisitions. Oh, God, love has turned her into a pirate. She stole from the Alliance! During wartime! Maybe no one's noticed and she can put it back—

"You want me to embarrass myself by comparing our artistic abilities?"

"I—What? No!" This was a bad idea. This is what happens when you try to be creative. Or… romantic. Leave the thinking to the professionals, Shepard! She should have stuck to movies. She got through _Talons_; she can get through anything. "I just thought…I remember you spent a ton of time recreating your Therum notes on the old _Normandy_, and you had all those sketches, so I thought, maybe, you like to draw, and I don't hate it, so, you know, I thought maybe we could draw something together, and why am I still talking when everything I say just sounds so stupid?"

"It sounds…" Liara looks shy, which makes Shepard feel better because she's not a good person. "It sounds wonderful." She scowls. "You locked me in the bathroom to surprise me with all this? You idiot."

"_Your_ idiot," the human corrects.

A sigh. "Yes."


	60. Unearthing: Liara

**Unearthing: Liara**

She has never regretted being a heavy sleeper, but waking up to find herself covered with a coarse human-woven blanket that does not belong to her, alone in a cabin that is just a fraction tidier than it was when she and Shepard fell asleep….

"Liara? Are you all right?"

"Hm?" The asari blinks at Tali for a moment. "My apologies, Tali, my mind was elsewhere. Did you ask me a question?"

Despite the fact that there is a layer of nearly-opaque glass between their two faces, the quarian's concern is evident. "Are you all right?" she repeats. "I—It's just that you were glaring at Kenneth. Not that he doesn't deserve it, probably, but you're not usually the glaring type. Not about stupid jokes anyway." She chuckles. "If you were, Shepard would definitely be terrified of you. Well, more terrified than she claims to be already."

The asari's gaze drifts back to Engineer Donnelly. For once, he seems to be fixated on his work. Engineer Daniels is saying something to him in a low voice, smirk evident on her face. The man keeps shaking his head and refusing to respond or even look up.

"Oh," she says.

"Oh?" Tali parrots back. "I've only seen him like this once. Miranda Lawson was down inspecting the engine room and she overheard Kenneth saying… Well, it doesn't matter what he said, all that matters is that Miranda just _glared_ at him and Gabby had to do a 'hard restart' of his system."

"I was unaware that Engineer Donnelly was partially synthetic."

"He's not! I—it's just an expression, I guess. He shuts down like a machine. Last time, we finally had to get Shepa—uh, forget that. It was a pain; that's all." She sighs.

"I am sorry, Tali. It was not my intent to—"

"No, I know, I know. Sorry. It's just such a waste of time."

"Should I leave?"

"I don't want you to go; it seems like forever since we talked, and I _know_ that you have things to tell me. I mean, I've heard a lot from EDI, but Garrus and I—I mean I! Just me! _I_ have a bunch of questions that Shepard is never going to answer, but you might! And so I—" the quarian turns her head towards Engineer Donnelly again and sighs. "I guess gossip will have to wait. I'd better go and help Gabby get him back to normal, before Chief Adams comes back and makes us recalibrate all the redundant shield overload safety siphons as punishment. Again."

"I am sorry, little sister."

The quarian stops before she turns around completely. She fixes her mask on the asari. Not for the first time Liara wishes she could see the youngster's face.

"I like it when you call me that," Tali pulls her friend into a brief hug before going back to her work.

**…**

If her mother could see her at this moment, Liara would find herself without a housename. Bad enough that she once spent days trapped in what Javik delightedly explained was a Prothean device created for restraining dangerous animals. Now, an _incredibly _immature human has barricaded her in a bathroom.

Ever since she was a child, Liara has—not feared, not exactly, but… _disliked_ being confined in small spaces. Although it is positively luxurious by some standards, her nerves have been unraveling as the minutes tick by.

She glowers at her reflection in Shepard's little mirror. "You know you will never live this down," she chastises the blue idiot. The situation has deteriorated so far that she has taken to talking to herself. "'Oh, Liara," the asari simpers at her reflection, "I left my omni-tool in the bathroom, would you grab it for me? C'mon, please? I'm supposed to be resting! You're the best, T'Soni.' You trusting fool!" A bolt of biotic energy dissipates harmlessly against the door. Goddess-damned Cerberus engineers and their obsession with constructing warships meant to outlast the blasted Reapers!

"Biotics is cheating!" a voice calls from the other side of the barrier.

Perhaps a threat will be more effective. "When I tell my father about this, she will not be pleased, Shepard!"

"A hundred and nine and you still need Daddy to fight your battles for you? You really _are_ barely more than a child!"

Forget love. She is going to _kill_ Shepard.

**…**

When the lock is undone and the human has the audacity to stand in the doorway and smile at Liara as though this has all been a wonderful joke, something inside the asari snaps. She grabs Shepard and pulls her, pushes her against a wall, plants a hand on her chest to keep her there. She loosens the barriers around her mind and lets her consciousness jostle against the woman's.

"Let me in." She asks. Barely, but she does. She is angry, not a monster.

"Liara—" The smile is gone now. "Is something wrong? It was just a—"

"Let me in!"

"I—No, yeah, of course." Shepard nods, and even through her anger, a distant part of Liara is awestruck to hear, "You don't have to ask every time. I know y—" What, exactly she knows is never explained. She stops talking when Liara shoves all the anxiety and helplessness and difficulty breathing and thinking that small spaces force on her into the soldier's mind.

The only problem with this method of explaining her anger is that Liara has to share everything with Shepard. She has to relive all these emotions.

She is not aware that she is shivering until she finds her back pressed against the wall, a hint of Shepard's weight holding her still. Despite the absence of tears, hands run over her cheeks in a familiar pattern of comfort.

Remorse gushes into her mind, a rising tide on an endless sea of guilt. The sensation of Shepard's thoughts is heartbreakingly familiar. She blinks, and eases out of the meld.

"I'm sorry," the commander sounds relieved. "I never think things through. I didn't—You should have _told_ me," Guiltily, the asari acknowledges that if she had explained rather than threatened, Shepard would undoubtedly have released her much sooner. When she offers an apology, the human brushes it aside, refusing to relinquish any of the blame. "I'm an idiot; I'm an idiot; I'm an idiot," she repeats.

Liara puts a hand over Shepard's mouth. "Enough," she orders, narrowing her eyes at a stubborn shake of the woman's head. "Fine. You are an idiot," she concedes. "Satisfied?"

Under the commander's miserable expression is a glint of mischief. "Am I _your_ idiot?"

"Yes."

"Then I'm golden." Shepard leads her into the main cabin. Or what is typically the main cabin. During Liara's imprisonment, the room transformed from the neat cabin she is familiar with into…something else.

Something messy. Although the area that comprises the human's workspace and the stairs leading down to her sitting area and bed are mostly unaltered, everything on the lower level save for 'Liara's desk' is gone, covered by blankets. Habits that cross the divide between species always fascinate Liara. Shepard's creation reminds the asari of the Prothean ruins she used to create with her imagination, bedsheets, and whatever furniture she could move without waking up the household on nights when could not sleep as a child.

"I—Shepard, what—?"

The soldier turns wide eyes on the asari. "Um, surprise?" she offers nervously, clearly still shaken by Liara's earlier…overreaction to her confinement.

A surprise it is, but what exactly…. Shepard says something about a date.

Liara examines the room again, taking in the meal substitutes—in purple packaging meant to indicate that they are poor recreations of asari cuisine—the wine glasses and large bottle set out by the stairs. She looks at the candles that line the sill of the empty fish tank, and the edges of Shepard's desk. Where did the woman even manage to find candles? At the human's prompting, she ducks her head down to stare into the blanket structure and finds thick, blank paper, small jars of armor paint, and artificial candles that fill the construct with a soft, friendly glow.

The commander is staring at her uncertainly, hands twisting in the agitated way they do when she is struggling to repress her fears. Liara smiles. "In order to surprise me with all this, you locked me in the bathroom?"

"Well, you'd been working up here, and I didn't know how to get rid of you without spoiling the whole thing, and I'm sorry, but if I'd known you were claustra—You gotta tell me these things, T'Soni, I'm not psychic. I mean, c'mon, I'm not even very smart…."

"You idiot."

"_Your_ idiot?"

Of course. Always. "Yes."

**…**

Later, after their meal has been consumed and all their water drunk ("Sorry, I know you like wine, but I'm gonna be boots on the ground with Kai Leng tomorrow—" "Don't be ridiculous; this is perfect. All of it."), they huddle next to each other in Shepard's 'fort,' Liara reviews information on her datapads, while the human literally watches the paint on their garish, highly abstract joint creation dry. A thought occurs to the asari.

She looks up to realize that Shepard is, in fact, staring at _her_. "You think he will kill you tomorrow!" she accuses.

The soldier blinks, slowly, like a sleeper trying to resist waking. "What? I do not! Thanks for the vote of confidence, Liara."

"Do not lie to me!"

"I'm not, I swear!"

"Then why do all this? It could have waited until after your mission tomorrow."

"I wanted to do this tonight."

"Why?"

Shepard leans in close. "Maybe I'm tired of waiting," she whispers.

The asari ignores the innuendo and the sudden surge of lust the innuendo ignites. "Why?" she repeats.

It is a long time before she receives a response. A hand reverently touches Liara's face. "You're so beautiful," Shepard says quietly. Seriously. Has anyone besides Liara's mother ever told her she was beautiful? "I _don't_ think he'll, ah, beat me tomorrow, but I wanted this memory. Just in case."

* * *

_**Author's Note: **Oh, um. Hi. Long time no—Don't throw that! Okay, I'm sorry I was gone for so long. A lot of RL changes and writer's block combined to sideline me for a while. But the good news is that I got a lot of work on the endings to this story done during that time! I'm going to try something fun (well, fun for me), and switch up the parallel chapter style so that we'll be alternating between Red and Green endings. Sound good? Hey, c'mon, you don't really want to throw—_


	61. Evolution: Liara

**Evolution: Liara**

Shepard walks backwards out of the cabin, eyes fixed on Liara, grinning as though she hasn't been called away by an urgent message of some sort. Liara doubts that she heard her shout to put up her hair before she takes the holo-call from the resistance. Ah, well. She supposes it is of little consequence. The commander can always claim that she had just woken up.

The door hisses shut. Suddenly the world seems colder. Lonelier.

Liara shakes her head, knowing that she is being ridiculous. Apparently, Shepard is infectious that way.

This time when she shakes her head, her eyes are closed and she is remembering the vague hint of a whine that creeps into her human's voice when she is being teased.

Compared to its usual, spartan state, the loft is an utter mess. Liara frowns. Sweet as Shepard's 'blanket fort' is, it makes it impossible to move through the room without crawling through unsteady tunnels.

Not to mention that the floor is rather uncomfortable. If—oh, who is she trying to fool, '_if_'—When she falls asleep here tonight, she'd rather fall asleep on the bed. The asari moves the garish painting that the two of them worked on to the ledge of the fish tank. For a moment she contemplates hiding that macabre memorial of Shepard's behind it, but decides to leave well enough alone. She gathers their paintbrushes, washes them in the bathroom and sets them to dry on the edge of Shepard's desk. The jars of paint end up in a neat line right next to the brushes.

She extinguishes the real candles and collects the artificial ones that lit the fort. These also end up clustered on Shepard's desk. It is not as if the human ever really does much work at her desk. The commander much prefers to work from a couch, or her bed, or best of all, to trick someone into doing her paperwork for her.

Eventually she folds all the blankets, stacking them neatly on a couch because she is not quite sure which storage closet they belong in, and Shepard can be ridiculously particular about where things are put away.

Then she stands in the center of the room, feeling lost.

It is certainly taking the human a while to return.

What if she does not return?

No, that is a foolish thought. Shepard is communicating with the resistance on Earth. It is unsurprising that such a discussion would be of a prolonged nature.

What if she is avoiding Liara? What if she regrets—What if Liara did something wrong?

"Oh, Goddess." Liara needs to work. She needs to take her mind off of—She needs to work.

Eventually the asari falls asleep at 'her' desk, still waiting for the soldier to return.

**…**

Shepard bursts into the room. How she manages to do this with an automatic door is not entirely clear to Liara, who is still half-asleep. (Her neck hurts. She needs to stop falling asleep in places that are not meant for falling asleep.)

"Shepard?"

Instead of responding, the human begins to tear her desk apart, rooting through drawers with a single-minded intensity.

Well. Something is wrong.

"Shepard?" Liara tries again.

The human makes a triumphant noise and produces a small bottle. With all the subtlety of a krogan used ship salesman, she wastes no time with openers, instead opting to smash the glass against her deck. The top shatters, and Liara does not have time to hope that no glass fell into the drink itself before the human is pouring it down her throat and sinking into a chair.

The smell of cheap alcohol floods the room. What happened to the woman's intent to be in peak condition when she faces Kai Leng? In…Liara regards the timepiece on her omni-tool with horror. In far too few hours.

"Please, Shepard," she crosses the room and gently pries the bottle from the human's hand. "Tell me what happened. Is Earth—?"

"_Earth_," Shepard spits. "_Earth,_" she sneers. Her face crumples in on itself. "Liara," she whispers.

The asari kneels, taking the soldier's hand, ignoring that it is wet with alcohol, and pressing it to her cheek. "I'm here. Talk to me."

The human seems to collapse. She slumps forwards until their foreheads touch. "Tanner," she whimpers.

A part of Liara wants to ask who this Tanner is, why he is so important to Shepard, what about him is significant enough that the resistance would risk a call from Earth to alert Shepard that there is yet another holo she needs to affix to the fishtank. The commander would not react to good news with this dry, tearless misery.

But what purpose would such inquiries serve?

Liara stands. She pulls Shepard with her. "You need to sleep," she says.

This war will not stop for anything. Grief or joy.

The human does not let go of Liara's hand, clinging to it as she falls into an uneasy sleep. More than lightly, Shepard sleeps fitfully. She murmurs to herself, and wakes more than once, squeezing the asari's hand and looking sadly into her eyes as though searching for confirmation of something. Or denial.

Liara lets Shepard shyly rest her dark head on her knee. She runs her hand soothingly over a pale cheek. For once, touch seems to soothe the commander's sleep rather than disturb it. She tries to remember the comforting songs Benezia used to sing, and hums when she cannot dredge up the words.

She says nothing when she wakes up alone.

**…**

Shepard stands on the bridge behind Joker's seat: helmet tucked under her arm, opposite fist planted on her hip, an impressive scowl on her face. It strikes Liara as amusing that she has never been particularly impressed by the sight of an armor-clad Shepard. Everyone else seems to find it inspiring…and far too many people find it arousing, if gossip on this _Normandy _or the first one or on the streets of Illium or the Citadel is anything to go by. Come to think of it however, the asari has never heard Kaidan say as much. The major tends to be soft-spoken and reticent, especially for a human. It might be nothing. Perhaps though, like Liara, he places a higher value on the commander's moments of vulnerability. Perhaps he prefers to see Shepard with her hair down. Literally.

Truthfully, Liara resents Shepard's armor. It takes the commander away from her. It sends the woman into danger. Not to mention that Shepard was wearing armor the first time Liara set eyes on her and realized the woman was obnoxious. Shepard had found it hilarious that a Prothean expert had managed to get herself trapped in a mysterious stasis field. The puns, oh Goddess, the puns! "We'll get you out of there, Doctor, you have my word." Serious and meant to raise Liara's spirits. "Just hang in there." Joking and meant to make Liara want to throttle the human.

Liara never really liked a person in uniform, no matter how commanding or attractive a figure they cut. In fact, growing up surrounded by commandos and smothered by bodyguards, she was more inclined to view members of the military with irritation rather than affection before—She looks at Shepard and remembers being locked in the soldier's bathroom for nearly a galactic standard hour. No, she still thinks soldiers are irritating more than anything else.

Still, the asari may have fallen in love with the galaxy's deadliest soldier, but she would have loved her dear, thickheaded human even if Shepard had been something completely unimpressive. A paleontologist, for example. One of the mine workers on Therum, or an assistant shop clerk on the Citadel. A too-abused slave on the old batarian markets, covered in scars that reflected a lifetime's worth of defiance of a different sort. An obnoxious art undergraduate at the university of Serrice who lived to irritate those who took their studies seriously.

"Those are Reapers," Shepard says quietly.

"Well give the girl a prize!" Joker snaps. "Fuck yeah, they're Reapers, Commander. Why do you think we haven't landed yet? Maybe because the bad guys can see us?"

"Traynor's intel didn't say anything about Reapers." The woman bites her lip. "She's got family planetside."

"Most of us have family who's planetside with Reapers," the pilot retorts. As always, Liara is impressed by the commander's patience with him. On an asari ship, such insubordination while on-duty—while off-duty, in fact—would not have been tolerated.

"Reapers," Shepard says again. "Shit. Shit, shit, _shit!_ There goes our whole plan of attack." She rubs a gauntleted hand over her eyes.

Liara perks up hopefully. Biotics are incredibly effective against most Reapers, and she is the most powerful biotic aboard the ship. Maybe the presence of these monsters was actually a gift from Athame. A way of putting Liara on the ground team and keeping Shepard from doing something heroic and idiotic and suicidal.

"Pull your head out of your ass and get us on the ground, Moreau," Shepard barks. "Cortez isn't going to be able to drop the shuttle if you keep screwing around."

"Look at you, all eager to get right down to business! Hey, Liara, does she always want to skip over foreplay? Kaidan won't kiss and tell so I guess I've got to ask you whether or not our fearless leader is all business in the bedroo—"

"_Flight Lieurenant Moreau_." Shepard's voice is like ice. "Keep your mind on the _mission_ before I have to toss you in the brig and let EDI fly the ship."

"Like—"

"Say anything besides 'Aye-aye, ma'am,' and you'll be disobeying a direct order during a time of war. I won't lock you up, I'll toss you out the fucking airlock. _Do I make myself clear?_"

Joker grits his teeth. For a moment, Liara fears he will attempt defiance. She exchanges a worried glance with EDI.

"…Aye-aye, ma'am." Though it sounds as though it pains him to voice the words, Joker manages to choke them out from behind gritted teeth.

The commander softens. "Good man. I don't know how you—I don't care what you joke about, Joker, so long as you don't—" She glances at Liara and coughs. The asari watches as her ears and neck turn red. "There are some things I don't have a sense of humor about."

"Yeah, clearly."

"So remember that next time." Shepard sighs and squares her shoulders. "Page Major Alenko, would you EDI? I want him down in the armory, suiting up. Tell Tali we won't need her, after all."

"Yes, Commander."

Liara stands in the human's path as she turns to exit the cockpit. "Shepard?"

"I've got to go."

"Alenko?" Although he is talented, for a human, Kaidan is the weakest biotic aboard.

"Can't take Javik. Cerberus wanted to get their hands on him, so I have to make sure that they don't."

"There are only two biotics aboard?"

"Today? Yes."

"That is idiotic. You could die if you are not properly prepared!"

Dull eyes stare back at her. "I know."

"Is this about last night?"

Shepard looks away. She opens her mouth to speak, but closes it almost immediately. "Not consciously." Not a lie, but not the truth Liara wants to hear, either.

"There are Reapers down there."

"I'm aware."

"You will need more than just Kaidan's biotics."

"Cerberus is going to be down there, too. I need someone who can shut down their tech."

"We both know that explosions of the sort you specialize in are far more effective against indoctrinated soldiers than they are against Reapers." The asari crosses her arms. "Take me with you."

"Horizon is Traynor's home planet. She's going to be a mess. I need someone helping her out with monitoring the ground team."

"Tali."

The ghost of a smile flits across Shepard's face. "You've got an answer for everything."

"Ground missions that do not involve my presence invariably end with your injury."

A shake of her dark head. "Don't ever ask me for something I can't give you," she orders. Begs. Her head bows, admitting defeat. "Go suit up. Tell Garrus he can hang back."


	62. Instinct: Shepard

**Instinct: Shepard**

"I want this memory. Just in case." Shepard means the memory of a few perfect hours with Liara, secure in the knowledge of their more-than-friendship, without her own neuroses getting in the way. She means the memory of just _being_ together, the way she's never just _been_ with anyone else. From stupid jokes over dinner, to deliberately ruining each other's side of the joint painting, to each one of them doing her own thing while they sat together in the stupid blanket fort. The memory of just having someone who doesn't mind the way Shepard chooses to exist because she already fits into that pattern.

Liara however, seems to be thinking back to Shepard's attempt to distract her from the question about whether she thinks she can beat Kai Leng. The human isn't sure whether she would really have used sex to keep from talking about feelings—Not that that hasn't been a tactic she's used in the past—And never regretted using, thank you very much. But this is Liara. This is…different.

Maybe getting slammed against the bathroom wall earlier gave Shepard a concussion, because when Liara smiles and says, "What memory?" Shepard says, "Don't you have that information already, Broker?" and doesn't stop the asari from kissing her in that way that they both know is going to lead to all kinds of decisions there's no going back from.

**…**

It's Shepard's turn to fumble with unfamiliar straps and fastenings, but she doesn't appreciate the irony. Liara does though. She laughs quietly, counting mockingly to five as she removes the soldier's light combat shell. As though she figured it out for herself that first time. Cheater.

"Help me with this, T'Soni," the human growls in frustration, tugging at one of far too many layers of unfamiliar armor and clothing.

Instead of making herself useful, the asari undoes Shepard's bun. She runs her hands through the loose hair, pulling away when one of the fingers of her left hand gets caught in a knot and the human hisses in discomfort.

"Did you _choose_ to wear an undershirt this evening, Commander?" The teasing tone of Liara's breathless voice is driving Shepard _insane_.

The woman slides her hands across the information broker's back, curling them into fists when she can't find any hint as to how to get rid of the damn plating. "Until you give me a hand here, that's for me to know and you to—" Her retort is cut off when Liara pulls both standard issue shirt and undershirt up over her head.

Rather than remove both pieces of clothing entirely though, the asari leaves the top half of the soldier's face covered, leaves her arms tangled in cloth and trapped above her head. Before Shepard has a chance to complain, Liara's mouth is on hers. Then it's on the corner of her lip. The underside of her jaw. Her neck, oh God, her neck. Liara's mouth finds the hollow of Shepard's throat. Hands that have been resting on Shepard's waist begin to move upwards. Too slowly.

"Please, T'Soni," she gasps, not sure of what she wants beyond a vague sense of 'more' and 'faster.' When her words don't seem to have any effect, she pushes her elbows out against her restraints, testing them. She realizes that she can rip the shirts and free herself.

At Shepard's fidgeting, those slow, evil hands stop just as the tips of Liara's fingers slip under the elastic of the human's bra. "Be good," she orders, kissing Shepard's collarbone, "Or I'll use biotics to hold you."

"That is so _unfair!_" She doesn't even care that she's whining.

Another kiss is pressed to her lips. "I could stop altogether if you'd prefer, Commander." Her rank sounds like a joke when Liara uses it.

"Don't you dare!"

"Then you should stop trying to interfere."

"Interfere?"

"With my study of human biology—anatomy, really, I suppose."

"So is _that_ what we're calling it?"

"I am not sure I care for your tone, Commander. Need I remind you of my credentials? I am a doctor, after all."

"Not that kind of doctor," Shepard immediately quips.

"Oh, shut up." The asari pulls her hands away. For a moment, Shepard hovers on the brink of panic. Then Liara's hands are back, pulling the undergarment up past Shepard's shoulders and using it to secure her arms more fully.

"This thing is kind of crushing my nose."

"Sorry." The bra is tugged higher. Adjusted. "Better?"

"Maybe you should just let me take them off?"

"No. Better?"

"…Yes."

The soldier is pushed gently onto her back. She can feel Liara settle on top of her. One of the asari's knees eases between Shepard's own.

Nothing else happens. They stay silent and motionless just long enough for Shepard to start feeling self-conscious. She's trying to remember where her scars are and what they look like when Liara takes another deep kiss from her. The asari starts retracing her path from earlier. Corner of the mouth. Jaw. Chin. Neck, neck, _neck_. Base of the throat. Pulse point.

Lower. Slowly, carefully, deliberately _lower_. Shepard arches her back as Liara begins to stroke her sides with a feather-light touch. She can imagine that damn calm, curious expression on the scientist's face. She wishes she could do something to shake Liara's self-control.

The asari's knee presses firmly against Shepard at the same time that her mouth _finally_ reaches the tip of one breast. There's a flash of jealousy when it occurs to her to wonder where the hell Liara learned all this, but almost as soon as the thought strikes her, the human decides she doesn't care.

"T'Soni," she pleads. Prays. Begs. Whatever. "T'Soni."

"Commander Shepard."

The commander manages not to scream, but it's a near thing.

"My apologies for intruding, Commander," EDI doesn't sound at all contrite, damn her. "There is a high priority call for you in the War Room."

"Take a fucking message," Shepard mutters. Liara laughs softly, regretfully. After a moment, she returns the human's clothing to its proper place.

"The call is from the resistance on Earth," the AI adds, as though that information might spur the commander into action.

"I'm on my way down," Shepard sighs, staring up at Liara.

"Go," the asari orders, leaning down to kiss Shepard a final time before moving off of her.

"Do I have to?"

"Yes."

The human sighs again. "Fine. But you have no idea how much I hate the resistance."

"I might have some inkling." Liara puts a hand between them when Shepard tries to kiss her again. "_Go_."

**…**

After the third ridiculous manuver tosses her halfway across the cargo bay, Shepard has had enough. She snaps at Garrus and Tali to find somewhere secure to hide while she rips the pilot a new, uh, a new hole in his…hat.

Elevator rides should not be this bouncy. Someone is going to die. Joker picked the wrong day to get fancy. The commander storms onto the bridge, pulling off her helmet at the last minute and tucking it under her arm. Too bad it's harder for her to yell with it on; she could really use the extra protection.

"What the fuck are you fucking with, Joker?" she yells, clawing her way to the front of the cockpit, ignoring the stares she's getting from crewmen who expect her to have a modicum of dignity. Don't they know better by now? Liara and EDI are on the bridge as well. How the asari is staying upright is beyond Shepard. At least EDI is strapped into the co-pilot's seat.

A huge shape sweeps past the ship's nose, and the pilot swears and jerks the controls.

"Reapers," she mutters. Fuck, there go all her plans. And she really, _really_ wanted to kill everything today.

"No shit, Sherlock," Joker quips. "You think I'm flying like this for fun?"

"With you? Who the fuck knows?"

Traynor has family on Horizon. She's going to be useless once she learns that there are Reapers running roughshod all over her home planet. Maybe not, but Shepard's learned the hard way not to count on luck.

She needs to kill something. Soon. "Quit messing around so Cortez can drop the shuttle!"

"Wow, someone's eager to get down to business," the pilot retorts caustically. His eyes never leave the displays in front of him. "Hey, Liara," he calls, "is she like this all the time? Kaidan isn't the kiss and tell type…"

How the fuck does he know about—Has Kaidan been telling people? Has _Liara?_ No, they're both private people. Chakwas? No. Garrus? No. How does he—

"So I guess I've gotta ask you whether or not the commander skips foreplay when the two of you—"

He's a dead man. Dead. "_Flight Lieutenant Moreau,_" his name tastes horrible. "Keep your filthy thoughts to yourself before I'm forced to take appropriate disciplinary action.

"Touchy! No offense, Liara, but your girlfriend's—"

She only just manages to kill the urge to strangle him. Her voice comes out low and cold. "Unless the next words out of your mouth are 'Aye-aye, ma'am,' you'll be committing mutiny during a time of war. In which case it'll be my pleasure to toss you out of the airlock. Do I make myself clear?"

He hesitates, just to let her know that she's not the boss of him. "Aye-aye, ma'am."

For an instant, Shepard feels guilty. She knows that she's not really angry with Joker. Well, not as much as it seems. But with—All Shepard wants is something to take her frustrations out on. She needs to get planetside.

"All right then, Joker," she says gruffly. "Some things aren't jokes." She wishes Liara wasn't here to hear her. To see her like this.

"EDI, tell Major Alenko he'll be taking Tali's place on the ground team." A part of her wonders if she's insane for doing this. For bringing Kaidan, poor Kaidan who she's betrayed and abused back to the place that first shed light on the rift between them. But she needs biotics to face Reapers, and she can't risk Cerberus getting their hands on Javik. Or Liara. Either one of them could provide information on the Protheans that the terrorists need. If Shepard's caught, she can always figure out some way to kill herself before she betrays the Alliance.

Kaidan's a professional. He'll get through this.

She's having such dark thoughts. _Tanner_. Her adorable little godson, who'd called her even when she was in lockup because he was proud of his cousin. Sixteen and dead for the resistance. All the good is ebbing out of the galaxy. All the light.

She wants to say no when Liara tries to argue her way onto the ground team. The asari is right though; Alenko's the worst of her three biotics. And Shepard is selfish. Things always feel better when Liara's around.

Brighter.

As she lets Garrus know he's off the hook for this mission, Shepard realizes how much trouble she's in.


	63. Rote: Shepard

**Rote: Shepard**

Cortez is standing in the center of the Kodiak when Shepard climbs back into the shuttle. He smiles at her, at the entire ground team as they get thrown around yet again by Joker's 'evasive maneuvers.' He welcomes them aboard '_Normandy_ Air,' and warns them to buckle up tight—he expects turbulence on the approach to scenic Horizon. He doesn't look like the man Shepard has found crying over his dead husband and comforted over and over again. Doesn't he remember that his husband is _dead?_ She doesn't buckle into a jump seat like the others do. She stands and holds a strap and glares at Cortez with dead eyes until he goes into the cockpit and preps for the drop.

His smile is obscene.

**…**

"I don't think this was a good idea after all," Shepard says, staring down at the papers Katie wants her to sign. She doesn't shift in her chair, because that's something little kids do and Shepard isn't a little kid anymore. Nineteen, out of high school, shipping out to Alliance boot camp at the end of the month. She's an adult.

Except that she isn't, not really, which is the problem.

"Trust me," Katie grins, as she lets go of her husband's hand to reach across the table and take her cousin's. "We want you to look after him if anything happens to us."

"What could happen to you two? You live on Earth now," Shepard teases. "You're both boring."

Phil's teeth are a flash of white in the red of his beard. "Remember when she thought we were cool?" he asks Katie.

"That was before she enlisted. Come on, Baby," the older woman wheedles. "Sign the papers.

Shepard looks out the window at baby Tanner, toddling unsteadily through the tall grass as he chases after the family dog and chatters excitedly at his Great-Aunt Hannah. She signs the papers.

**…**

At least Shepard thinks she can dredge up the memory of her first kill. A male. She's pretty sure he was a batarian slaver. He might have been a human pirate. Or an asari merc. Something with more than three digits on each hand; she's almost positive. It should worry the soldier that she _doesn't_ remember the first time she choked on air that was rotten with the stench of death. It should be worse that she has no idea when she stopped actively noticing that scent. The moment when something horrifyingly _wrong _became something merely unpleasant is lost to her. All of this, the bodies, the burning, the sick awfulness of Cerberus experiments and perversion, it should worry her. Bother her. It doesn't.

For the first time since Rannoch and Big Shepard, she wonders whether they missed some of her soul when they brought her back.

**…**

"Giving him candy was a bad idea." Shepard is already frowning when Tanner starts slapping her leg. She lifts him up so they can converse at eye level. "We only hit enemies of the Alliance," she sternly informs the five-year-old.

"You were _born_ in uniform, weren't you?" Liv rolls her eyes and plucks the boy away. "Don't listen to Shep," she says, tossing her blond hair so that it catches both the sunlight and the attention of the college guys jogging by. "She's just grumpy because the N7 invites haven't come out yet."

"I'm not nervous," Shepard retorts. "I'm in. I have to be in."

"Would it really be so bad if you weren't?"

"Well, Big Shepard doesn't think so, but then she thinks I'd be wasted in the marines."

Liv laughs and grabs one of Tanner's hands in her own, stretching them both out to trace over the thin scar on his older cousin's jaw. "I dunno what she's worrying for. You've already got the face of a jarhead."

"Hey, watch it," the dark-haired young woman makes a face and pulls away. "This face will be on coins someday."

"I think you mean it'll be on Most Wanted posters…."

"I'm going to push you into the lake."

"No you won't. I've got your godson hostage."

"Bite her, Tanner," Shepard orders.

"You bite her!" Tanner squirms out of Liv's arms and runs away, flapping his arms at the ducks lounging by the lake until they waddle sullenly into the water and paddle away. Shepard sprints after him, getting her shoes and legs soaked as she grabs him before he can leap into deep water and give chase.

"_Don't_, Tanner!" Her voice shakes as she holds his shoulders too tight. The boy starts to cry, more afraid of her sudden anger than the danger of drowning.

**…**

The husk she is staring at is smaller than the others. All the others. All the ones Shepard has ever killed. She remembers someone—EDI, or Traynor, or Mordin, or someone—telling her that part of the conversion process is standardization. No diversity among Reapers, even if that baby one she killed did look like a human. But this husk is small. Short. Young. No matter how much she wants to pretend that it was just a short person, a very short person, she knows. A child. This thing, leaking oil all over the ground and her boots, it was a child before Cerberus decided to recycle it. Him.

Tanner.

"I'm sorry," she whispers.

His corpse says nothing. _You killed me_, she imagines him saying. _Where were you when I was screaming?_

It's sick that she can still see the lines of a smile, of youth on the husk's face.

_You were supposed to protect me_, Tanner doesn't say. _You've gotten sloppy. For what? An asari? A sword in the gut? Where were you when I needed you?_

"That's not fair."

_What's not fair is that I'm dead._

**…**

"What happened to your voice?" Shepard is laughing, but her heart is breaking. Two years, she missed, then more time as a slave to Cerberus. Tanner grew up.

"It changed," he grins at her. His hair is teenager-sloppy, dark and attractive. The red sheen in it is Phil's legacy. She wonders what he would look like with a beard.

"I'll say! You sound like Jackie-boy!" Cousin Jack has the deepest voice in the family, for all that he's rail-thin. He sings the octave below bass, whatever that means.

Tanner's green eyes light up proudly. "Really?"

Shepard nods.

"Sweet."

They grin at each other for a while. Then the boy puts a hand on his datapad. His fingers get in the way of his face, and Shepard wants him to move them.

"I missed you," he says.

"I missed you more, kiddo."

Tanner shakes his head, suddenly serious and looking old. "No you didn't."

Compared to everything that's happened since she…woke up, death was painless. He's right. It was harder for him. For two years, she didn't miss anything. "No, I didn't."


	64. Findings: Liara

**Findings: Liara**

"Where is she?"

The sound of Kaidan's voice brings Liara back to herself. She manages not to jump in surprise, but it is a near thing. Rather than feeling frustration at his intrusion on her thoughts, or embarrassed at her mental lapse, she feels grateful. How long has she been staring into this black pit, watching the shuddering, shuffling patches of grey that she knows to be Reaper creatures move through the darkness?

Too long. But then, any time spent trying to understand such perversion is time ill-spent. The asari shakes her head to dislodge bleak thoughts. She tells herself to think of a reason to fight. Of something good and beautiful.

Predictably, her mind presents her with memories of Shepard. Something good and beautiful. Liara thinks of the various colors of the human's skin. She thinks of how Shepard's arms are a shade darker than her neck, and how her stomach is a few shades lighter than her face. How even her breasts are a smooth patchwork of different shades of tan, arcs of brown-tan fading to white-tan, leading to circles of pink-tan and dark pink.

Her kaleidoscope of a human.

"Hey, Liara?" Kaidan speaks again. "Do you know where Shepard is?"

An excellent question. Ever since last night, Shepard has been missing. A part of her has vanished, gone to Earth, presumably, to mourn this Tanner she cannot talk about.

The commander was silent and icy on the shuttle ride. She stared at Cortez as though she saw a monster rather than a man. A Reaper creature. She had no reaction to Oriana Lawson's message. Liara had had to identify the speaker and explain her significance to Kaidan. He had not seemed pleased at the idea of encountering Miranda Lawson on Horizon. Liara remembers that Miranda was part of the Cerberus ground team that witnessed Shepard's unfortunate reunion with the then-Commander Alenko.

She had wondered—had been unable to help wondering—whether being in this place, with Shepard and Kaidan would be a mistake. Too much emotion for one or all of them to handle.

She can admit that she had the least faith in the major. She knows that _she _would not react well to the pressures were she in his situation. But he has been calm and firm and steady. The way he always is. Though he does not have the irresistible pull or the unimaginable brightness of Shepard, perhaps in his own way he is like a star. In his seeming constancy. His reliable light.

So far, this mission has served only to highlight the vast differences between the first and second human Spectres. Perhaps that has been helpful to Kaidan in repressing whatever memories this place must force in front of him. Useful in recalling all the reasons he and Shepard were wrong for each other.

Commander Shepard has been silent, grim and efficient. A perfect soldier. Almost worrisomely perfect, except for one moment soon after their arrival at the Sanctuary facility. Following a brief skirmish with both Reaper creatures and Cerberus troops in a large, ruined lobby area, the commander made her way over to a potted plant that still stood, mockingly pristine amid the rubble. She'd pulled her helmet off and vomited into the pot, violently, before replacing it, waving away help, and signaling to keep pushing forwards.

"Are you all right?" Kaidan's attention is fixed on Liara now. His concern is evident, even under his weariness and wariness.

If Shepard has been too cold, too emotionless, too absent, Kaidan has been present and vigilant and noticeably shaken by the evils of this facility. He has made small noises of disgust each time their team decrypts a new data cache, or finds another heap of innocent corpses. After listening to logs left by those who had come to this place seeking refuge, he actually lost his temper, flinging the datapads into the air and blasting them into nothing with his biotics.

"Liara? Are you okay?" The man's helmet is off, he runs a hand through his black hair. His fingers leave trails of disorder behind them. Without thinking, Liara reaches out to repair the damage. Chaos does not suit Kaidan the way it does Shepard. "This is some sick, heavy shit we're seeing here. Cerberus fuckers."

They are both surprised when he submits to her grooming. Perhaps the horrors of this place have been good for something after all.

"I am all right. Though I suspect my nightmares will be all the more vivid for having been here."

He nods. "If you can ever sleep again."

"It might be more relief not to," she agrees.

"Shepard?"

"I will find her."

**…**

Liara will always find Shepard, though a fearful, selfish part of her might wish otherwise.

The human kneels in a puddle of the thick, viscous liquid that bleeds out of all Reaper creatures. The scientist in Liara has been both fascinated and disgusted to realize that the consistency and color is always the same, regardless of what species are used in the creation of the Reaper thralls.

Black. Stinking black sludge that is neither oil nor blood, but a perversion of both.

"Shepard?"

The commander is touching the husk's face. Tenderly. As though she loved the poor, dead monster.

Odd, how death makes even the most frightening and disgusting things seem harmless and pitiful.

Shepard whispers something and does not respond to Liara's attempts to tug her upright. Steeling her stomach, the asari crouches next to the human.

"I'm sorry," Shepard says again. "I didn't mean to."

"Shepard." Liara is unsure of what to do, what to say. Where is Shepard? Not here, that much is certain. Her eyes have never been so distant. "Shepard you have not done anything wrong. Wake up, love. Come back."

"It isn't fair," the soldier says hoarsely. She turns towards Liara and stares dully through her.

"War is not meant to be fair," Liara agrees. "The Reapers do not understand fairness. Or mercy. Or guilt. Please, Shepard." She is unsure what she is asking for. For Shepard to stop frightening her, she supposes. Unfair though it is, if Shepard shows weakness, it becomes easier to remember how likely it is that they will lose this war for their existence.

"Your voice is different." The human's smile is forced.

"What? I do not understand. Nothing has changed."

"You sound like Jackie-boy. You sound like a grown-up. You got so grown-up while I was gone, Tanner."

Oh. Liara puts her hands on Shepard's cheeks and brings their foreheads together. "Tell me about Tanner." It is hardly the ideal time, but Shepard needs to be here. They are safe in this set of hallways, with everything locked down and silent, at least for now. There is space to breathe.

"Now I'm the one who misses you more."

"I am sorry, love."

"It's my fault. I should have been there. What was I doing?" The woman's eyes are beginning to focus, miserably, reluctantly dragging her mind back to reality. "Tan—Liara?"

"I am here. Shepard. You know that you cannot save everyone."

"But I _should_ have! He was sixteen!"

Sixteen. Practically an infant by asari standards. Young even for a human. Too young to be dead.

She pulls away from Shepard, linking their fingers together and pulling the human to her feet. "There is no justice in this war. Only pain. And vengeance."

"Vengeance." The soldier says the word thoughtfully, tasting it.

"Only if you are there to take it. Only if you are alive."

"Alive." A nod. "I'm still alive."

"You are."

One last blink and Shepard is back, staring out of her own hazel eyes again. She glances down at their clasped hands, puts a slight pressure on them. "We both are."

"Yes."

An expression that might have been a smile on any other day flits across the commander's face. "Yeah."


	65. Completion: Liara

_**Author's Note: **I usually put these at the end of the chapters, but I need to start off with a note here. First, a heads-up that this set delves into 'M' territory. Not too deep, but far enough that it bears mentioning._

_Second, a huge thank you to all of you for your patience with me. I swear, I've been working on these chapters since I posted the last ones, but it was SO HARD to get them to work. I love that none of you gave up on me, either, and I'd like to thank you for reaching out to me to check on how I was doing/how the writing was coming. It means a lot to me, really._

_Which leads me to my third and final point-I owe a world of thanks to a couple people. My undying gratitude goes to __Owelpost for beta-reading these and helping me fashion them into something that hopefully won't turn you to stone if you read them. Seriously, as sadistic as Owel is to her poor characters in her own writing, she's a complete sweetheart when it comes to beta'ing, full of patience and support. Go read _Glacial Fire_ so you can appropriately appreciate this contrast. Seriously though, she read so many iterations of these chapters... The scene with Tali in these chapters? It's only here because she made me keep it-and I think it's turned out to be one of the best parts of this installment. Owel, you really are the best. Thanks also are due to Sirrocco, who not only reminded my that I write this story to push my own limits, but whose comments helped nudge these chapters in the proper direction. (And by 'proper direction,' I mean 'a less terrible one.') _

* * *

**Completion: Liara**

Miranda Lawson's eyes are closed. Blood seeps slowly from a wound that is too long, and too dark, and likely too deep. She could be dead. Liara cannot find her voice, cannot find enough courage to point this out to Shepard.

The human has lost herself again, fallen too deep into soldierly perfection. No emotion, no entanglements, no weaknesses. Earlier, she killed a brute with her omni-blade, sliding under the monster's swinging arm, somehow finding the strength to shove the thin blade through the metal plating protecting its underside, and letting her momentum drag her out from under the massive body before it collapsed. Liara and Kaidan had been stunned, too stunned to shout a warning, a reminder about the other brute that they had been concentrating fire on. It had turned towards Shepard when she took down its fellow. Even there though, Shepard had been perfect, retracting her omni-blade as she slid, turning herself over and coming to a stop balanced on the balls of her feet and one hand as the other pulled her shotgun off her back. While the brute charged her, she charged the weapon, firing a powerful shot into the monster's face when it was an arm's length from her. Catching hold of one of the horns on its head and swinging herself onto its back so that its death slide could not hurt her. Watching her, Liara remembered all the times she thought that the soldier moves beautifully through a battlefield, and realized that on some level, the woman had always been holding herself back.

That restraint though, was always a product of Shepard's peaceful nature. Much as the commander loves to fight, she hates death. Hates to witness pain or suffering. Despite her capacity for violence, 'guardian' has always been a more appropriate title for her than 'warrior.'

Shepard steps over Miranda's outstretched legs, her weapon and eyes fixed on the only threat in the room: the man holding a gun to Oriana Lawson's head. Liara is the one who crouches down and presses two fingers to the pale woman's neck, checking for life. Her pulse flutters weakly. It only takes a moment to administer a medi-gel application. Eyelids flutter and a hand grasps the asari's shoulder. She understands the unspoken request and helps the human to stand.

The commander fixates on the man with the gun; she asks him about Kai Leng. "What do you mean, 'He's gone?'" Shepard rasps. Her words are weak, wounded, sounds that have traveled to this room from the far reaches of dark space.

The man calling himself 'Henry Lawson' chuckles. It must infuriate Miranda that he learned her pseudonym and co-opted it. "You sound disappointed, Commander."

It is true. She does. Shepard has only seemed herself—optimistic and eager and confident—when watching surveillance videos that have captured the assassin's progress through the Sanctuary facility.

Shepard has been hunting, Liara realizes. Shepard has been using this chase to hide from her pain, to hide from her grief, to hide from the reality of the new holes in her family. Shepard has been telling herself that to deaden her pain, all she need do is kill the assassin who took Thane from her, who took the information on the Catalyst from her, whose actions prolonged the war.

The commander shouts at the man about his experiments here. The yelling and anger seem to bore him. Abruptly, Liara sees the resemblance between father and daughter. Between the unnaturally cold man and the woman who leans heavily against the asari's shoulder, unnatural heat radiating from her.

Shepard says something that makes Henry Lawson release Oriana, makes him push her away. The soldier lowers her gun, and Kaidan tears his gaze from the man who committed so many atrocities to stare at the commander. There is something akin to resentment in his gaze. Liara thinks of the way Shepard did not lower her gun on the Citadel.

A biotic pulse knocks Liara to the ground, knocks all of them to the ground. For a moment, she feels panic—has she lost control? Then she looks up to see Miranda Lawson wrapped in blue fire, hand extended. She hears a deep scream as Henry Lawson falls out the weakened window to his death.

Miranda collapses. Her sister runs to her, bends over her, holds her hand, cries. Kaidan, trained as a field medic, comes next, performing some sort of scan.

Shepard moves in the opposite direction, leaning forward out of the broken window as if she might decide to jump.

**…**

Kaidan carried Miranda back to the shuttle. He used his biotics to assist him. It would have been easier for Liara, the stronger biotic, to take control of the injured woman, or for Shepard, with the absurd strength of her enhanced body, but the man insisted. Liara suspects that his stubbornness had rather too much to do with the fact that his companions were human females and an asari. Gendered species can be uniquely thickheaded about what is and is not appropriate behavior in certain situations.

The former Cerberus operative opened her eyes once and mumbled something incoherent. Her sister immediately moved into her line of vision, trying to reassure through her presence. It seemed to work. Miranda tried to say something more, but she began coughing blood, and her sister told her to be quiet, please, Miranda, just hold on, please, Miranda, don't you dare die, please, Miranda.

Shepard said nothing.

When they reach the _Normandy_, Dr. Chakwas and EDI are waiting for them. Kaidan rebuffs the AI's offer to carry Miranda, so EDI takes charge of Oriana. The whole group rushes to the medbay.

Liara does not go with them. Neither does Shepard. The commander goes to the cockpit instead of to the medbay. Liara wants to follow her.

Across the CIC, Samantha leans over her monitors in a way Liara recognizes. She does not need a turian's keen eyesight to observe the way the young human's eyes shine too brightly.

Without thinking, Liara fires up her omni-tool and connects to her network. She has a few minutes. EDI is polite enough to leave the tenuous connection alone, but others—Allers—are not. Still, what she wants takes only a moment's work to locate. A good moment, for once. The asari smiles as she forwards the information to Samantha.

She hears Shepard and Joker laughing and makes her way to the elevator, feeling somewhat relieved. Now that she is back on the ship, Shepard will be all right. The _Normandy_ is her home. It puts her at ease, brings her back to herself and the memories of a lifetime spent being the best soldier the galaxy has ever seen—a lifetime spent sharing spaces like this one with people she loves. People who are still alive.

She fails to reach the elevator. Samantha grabs hold of her, crushes her in a hug. Liara tells herself that Shepard should be informed that the small, quiet specialist has enough upper body strength to merit consideration for advanced combat training. Also, she does not seem to mind that Liara's armor is grimy, covered in dirt and blood and Reaper filth that gets all over the human's uniform, bare arms, and the face she presses to the asari's shoulder. The woman might actually do well on the front lines.

The Shadow Broker puts her arm around her friend, fairly certain she knows what brought on this affection.

"Thank you," Samantha chokes.

"Shepard does not like it when those around her are upset. If she had gotten a look at you, we would have spent the next few hours escorting you home so you could check on them yourself. Unfortunately, we cannot afford the detour. Miranda needs proper medical attention, as soon as possible."

The woman pulls away and smiles a little. "Of course," she says, rubbing tears off her cheeks. "You only sent me that information so that we could stay on schedule. Not because you're a bloody hero, or the kindest person in the galaxy or anything." She squeezes Liara again before releasing her. "_Thank you_."

In all honesty, Liara forwarded Samantha the information for selfish reasons. It is nice to know that someone aboard has an intact family, even this far into the war.

**…**

"Liiiiii-ar-a!" Apparently it is time for a little sisterly bonding. "Are you there? Liiiiiiiiiii-arrrrrrrr-aaaaaaaa?"

Tali is making intoxicated comm calls to every quarter of the ship. Someone should take away her alcohol, and send her to bed. Liara's conscience pricks her, tells her that it should be her, but between her date with Shepard last night and the ground mission today, she has left her monitors alone for too long. There is data that needs her. A galaxy that needs the Shadow Broker.

Despite all the work she needs to do, she thinks of her desk in Shepard's cabin; she cannot help it. Liara loves the way Shepard weaves their lives together so casually. A sweatshirt, a desk. Filling places that didn't look empty, but must have been, if the asari can fit into them.

"Hello, Tali." She sorts picks up a datapad with information on the latest evacuations from Thessia. She puts the datapad down. Just a brief examination tells her that it is more good news. Samantha's family. These evacuees. An irrational part of Liara wonders if her good luck is somehow related to all the pain Shepard is suffering. "Please tell me you are being safe."

"Safe?" Slurring makes the word sound like a joke. "Me? Are you worrrrrrried?" Alcohol emphasizes a quarian accent. At least it does in Tali's case; even on Illium, Liara did not have occasion to know many quarians.

"You do not drink very often," Liara points out.

"It's hard to find something that won't kill me." The 'i' in 'kill' is high-pitched, juvenile. Liara thinks about how young Tali is.

"A fair point."

Tali begins to list things that will kill her. "…air, flowers, puppies…" What is a puppy? "…brandy that's only been filtered once…" Hopefully she remembered to filter whatever it is she has been drinking the appropriate number of times. "…skin-to-skin contact, swapping spit, sex with _anyone_…. Which reminds me—"

The asari braces herself. Quarians love unearthing personal secrets even more than salarians do. The Migrant Fleet runs on gossip, not eezo.

"—how is the sex? With Sheparrrd? Good? It has to be good. Shepard never does anything—" 'anythink,' "—wrong. She's so perrrrfect." Fond resentment colors the quarian's words.

Liara shakes her head. "You are the second person to ask me that today." It is none of anyone's business. "I refrained from discussing the details of my romantic life with Joker," not that there are any details to discuss, "and I—"

"_Come on!_" the quarian whines. "What kind of friend are you? This is what friends do, you know. Talk about sex. Not that I've ever had a friend to talk about sex with. Since _sex could kill me_." 'Keel,' again.

"Little sister—"

"Don't 'little sister' me, Liara. You're the worrrrst."

"You are being shockingly immature."

"I'm drunk. Just because you never get drunk—"

The asari rubs her forehead. "I wish I were drunk right now," she mutters. She doesn't, actually. It had been a horrific experience. The only good part had been laughing with her father. And being brave enough to talk to Shepard. And the way Shepard had looked after her. And the next morning, the way they'd talked, the way they'd been terrifyingly honest, the way Shepard had pulled her into the bathroom and made a stupid, sweet joke. Her own way of saying she loved Liara.

No. That had been the best part. Hearing Shepard say 'Love you too, T'Soni.' Now if only she would say it when she did not believe Liara was asleep.

"Hellooooo? Rannoch to Liara? Are you there, Liara?"

"No." She wants to think about the hesitant way Shepard says those words. The commander always uses Liara's last name, a sure sign she is trying to distance herself from something. Liara thinks about how they still have not consummated their relationship. She wonders if she is attractive to humans. Not humans, she has little interest in what typically appeals to the species. She wonders if she is attractive to _Shepard_.

She doesn't want to wonder anymore. "Yes," she sighs. "I'm still here, Tali."

"I knew you were! Tell you what, if you tell me about Shepard, I'll tell you about Garrus…."

"_What?_" The asari tells herself that it is highly unusual that she missed something like a romantic relationship between two of her closest—her _only_—friends.

The quarian giggles. "Oops. Ah, can we pretend I didn't say that?"

"Absolutely not." Liara glowers at her datapads, monitors, and feeds. She scowls fiercely at Glyph. If the Shadow Broker _had_ to be saddled with such an irritating VI, why not one with nearly-AI-level intelligence? She wants to drink and gossip, not—

It strikes the asari that this war with the Reapers is a war for the continued existence of all sentient life, and she is pouting because she wants to go have a drink with her friend and exchange stories about their respective alien love interests. How old is she? _Thirty?_

Someone Shepard loved died last night. A child. She grabs a datapad from the stack on the desk, begins to read it as fiercely as she can, _not _thinking about Tali and Garrus and….

"Just forget it Liarrrrrrra. It was a joke. I've been drinking, remember?"

"If anything," she says sternly, "I have learned that intoxication tends to engender honesty. So, unfortunately for you, I will not 'just forget it.' Absolutely not," she repeats, "although further discussion will have to wait. I am working, Tali," she says. "In case you have forgotten, we are at war."

"Working?" 'Verking.' "Oh, now you sound just like Mirrrrran—_Hey, Shepard!_"

"Another time, little sister." Liara shuts off the comm. "I promise."

**…**

Remarkable, that the _Normandy _can be the most advanced starship in the entire galaxy and yet have such irritating, antiquated elevators. Liara shifts the bundle on her left hip to her right, uneasy. She does her best not to glance over her shoulder at the names on the memorial wall behind her.

For the moment, Miranda Lawson's name is not on the wall.

For the moment, Shepard's name is not on the wall.

Liara will be dead before she allows Shepard's name to be added to that wall.

_There's no way I'm gonna die before I get you in bed_.

Smiling, teasing words spoken in an attempt to reassure Liara, who thinks a lifetime of celibacy is a fair trade for Shepard's immortality.

Well, almost.

The elevator finally arrives. Its doors slide open in a provokingly unhurried manner. The asari manages to refrain from rolling her eyes, or muttering a curse, and steps onto—

A hand reaches out to take hold of the information broker's shoulder, stopping her before she can collide with Shepard.

The human's eyes are clear. Sad, much sadder than they have been in a long time, perhaps sadder than her companion has ever seen them, but no longer clouded by misery. A wry smile twists the soldier's lips. Liara cannot help the sharp, quiet breath the sight draws from her. If the scar on her cheek were gone, if the scar on her jaw had never been erased, the woman whose body is so distractingly close could be the Shepard from another, simpler lifetime. A life before any of them understood the magnitude of the Reaper threat.

Amusement melts into affection. "Hey, you." Shepard glances past Liara, gaze flicking fleetingly to the left and the right before coming back to the asari standing before her. She brings them together for a kiss that is neither slow nor sweet. It is _eager_. It steals Liara's breath.

"Hello," she smiles when the human finally pulls away from her. Her free hand reaches up to touch one of those soft cheeks. "You seem…better," she says carefully.

"I feel better," Shepard admits. "Not great. Not even good, but…better." She looks down, noticing the N7 sweatshirt bulging with humor vids, comforting tea, and playing cards that Liara clutches. "Are you going to do laundry?" she frowns, apparently assuming that the bundle contains only clothes. "Now?"

"I—What? No."

"Well, but…" the human shakes her head. "Am I the only one who cares about being neat?" For the first time Liara notices that Shepard is carrying a small bundle of perfectly folded clothes.

"What are those? Are _you _going to do laundry?" Where _are_ the laundry facilities on the _Normandy_, anyways? Liara has never seen them. How typical that Shepard folds even her dirty garments. The asari wonders if the soldier's obsession with order and tidiness is a force of habit, born of living most of her life aboard warships, or if it is an attempt to prove that she can exert absolute control over at least one thing in her life.

"Um," Shepard blushes. "Iwascomingtoseeyou?"

Liara cannot help smirking. "With a change of clothes? That is…rather forwards of you, Shepard, don't you think?" She conveniently—hypocritically, her conscience insists—ignores the fact that she was on her way up to check on the human. Without a change of clothes.

"I—ah—I don't have to…."

"That was a joke."

"Oh." The human rests a forearm lightly against Liara's shoulder so that her hand can curve carefully around the asari's face. "I never had nightmares before the war," Shepard says. She has mentioned this a number of times. "I have them a lot now. But not, um," she bites her lip and looks up at Liara, "not when you're around?"

The commander will not ask the question, not out loud, even though they both know it hangs in the air. Liara wants to shake her head at the lost expression on the woman's face. Instead, she nods, lets her unburdened hand grip the front of Shepard's shirt. She pulls Shepard close and kisses her.

"My mother's MIA," the human whispers when they separate. Liara thinks of Kaidan and his bottle of whiskey. Of how he'd wanted to share his grief with Shepard. She thinks of the way her own mother had died, her last breaths so agonized, pain distorting a face fashioned for joyfulness.

In less than a day, Shepard has lost more than anyone should have to. No wonder she holds so tightly to Liara.

"What do you need?"

Shepard stares, as though the question is absurd. "I need you."

**…**

"Your cabin's always so dark." The words are disapproving. "How do you stand it?"

Liara stares up at the human, feeling loose strands of dark hair brush against her face, the shoulder of her shirt. Her crest. The sensations are hollow compared to the warmth of Shepard's lips, her touch, as unsettling as those are. Why did Shepard stop? The asari is confused. "Stand what?" she asks. "What is wrong?"

Goddess, _why_ did you curse Liara with this woman? This woman whose touch can dissolve all the thoughts Liara will ever try to have, this woman who takes her hands and her mouth away at the _worst_ possible moment to say the strangest things. _Why_, Goddess?

"I can barely see you." Even though the intensity of her gaze is undimmed, even though their faces are barely inches apart, it is hard to determine the color of Shepard's eyes in this light. "I don't want this to be…. It _has_ to be perfect."

"It will be," the asari whispers. "It is." She lifts her hands to frame those soft, beautiful cheeks. "Every moment I am with you is perfect." It is painful sometimes, confusing and unsettling almost always, and (right at this moment) it is terrifying

"No." Shepard shakes her head and pulls away. She straightens her left leg and slides her right knee off of the bed, taking a step away as soon as both feet touch the floor. Her hands rise, pausing just below the level of her shoulder with palms facing outwards, finger splayed. The gesture is a prelude to a welcome for an asari, but for a human, it is a wordless surrender. "I've never been first for—and I don't want to—" Now she wrings her hands nervously, trying to hide from a nightmare.

Liara sits up and grips the edge of the mattress, as though the heavy thing can anchor her. She bends forwards slightly and stares at the floor, trying to catch her breath. "Is there anything you _do_ want, Shepard?" she asks quietly. "From me, I mean? Do you want the same things from me that I want from you?" Life was easier when her emotions were a secret she could keep locked away. The best thing about dreams is that if they are impossible, the work it takes to make them come true, the fears that have to be conquered to win the heart's desire, stay abstract.

Familiar hands break into her line of sight, settling on the tops of her thighs. Their warmth bleeds through the fabric of Liara's pants. She squeezes her legs together and lifts her head to see the commander kneeling in front of her. "Sorry, beautiful. I'm sorry. Just tell me what you need." Coming from anyone else, the words would sound like a prayer.

The asari shakes her head. She doesn't _know_. Yes, she needs Shepard, but for some reason she…can't say it? Doesn't she want this? Why can't she say such a simple thing? Why are they both afraid of taking this next step, making all the things they have said and thought become real? What will they do if the reality falls short of their imaginings?

There is an unexpected chill when Shepard pulls her hands away. It is enough to jolt the asari back to reality. She looks down at her lap, wondering how much of the human's rambling she missed.

"—selfish enough to want you not to realize that." Shepard frames Liara's face in her hands, applying gentle pressure until there is no choice but to look her in the eye. She holds their gazes together, and _smiles_, so softly that Liara's heart breaks. "I just—I wish I could give you better. You should have something special, a hotel on the Presidium, at least. I—I'm not really sure, but—I—You—Flowers. You deserve flowers. And stars."

The woman closes her eyes and moves forward, but when Liara tries to meet her kiss, Shepard's lips ignore her own, to press gently against her forehead.

She releases Liara, rocking back on her heels and standing in a quick, smooth movement. "I'm going to change."

The clothes Shepard brought from her cabin are stacked neatly on a chair just beyond the curtain, in the 'public' part of the room. "Record me, and I'll _destroy_ you. Understand, you little pervert?" the soldier snarls as she makes her way over to them.

The Shadow Broker's indignant response is forestalled when Glyph chirps, "Of course, Commander." The VI goes to hover in a corner on the opposite side of the cabin.

Oh.

Shaking her head, the woman grips the back of her top in her right hand and pulls, straining to free it from where it is tucked into her pants, then awkwardly shrugging it over her head and shoulders, catching her chin on the collar and turning it inside-out in the process. What a ridiculous ordeal. Liara watches the human drop the shirt with mingled horror and fascination, unable to believe that the process will have to be repeated in order to remove that damnable 'white v-neck undershirt.' This time, Shepard crosses her arms behind her head, grabbing handfuls of fabric at each shoulder and hauling the undershirt upwards. It gets stuck in the tangle of dark hair that has escaped the knot at the back of her head.

Before she fully realizes that she has taken action, Liara rises from the bed, on her way to disentangle Shepard from the obnoxious garment. Too late. With a final grunt of effort, the commander breaks free of her confinement and begins to fuss over the shirt she has just removed, folding and re-folding it in a quest for perfection.

All Liara can do is stare. At thin, raised lines on Shepard's back; at wider, puckered areas; at small patches of skin that are too pink (even for a human), too shiny. There are a lifetime's worth of scars on skin that is less than two years old. Or is it three now? Does it matter? She reaches out and settles her fingers over some of the imperfections. Shepard's skin is unnaturally soft, warm, smooth. So unlike her own. So much—

"What are you doing?"

She flexes her hands, and suddenly she is gripping Shepard's waist, turning her around, desperately searching for reassurance that her fierce, untouchable Commander Shepard really is fierce and untouchable, and unbreakable. When they stand face to face, the woman stares at her, dark eyes expressive and afraid. Mortal, the asari acknowledges for the first time.

"Liara? What are you doing?"

"I," she says with a small smile, terrified of what she is doing but not caring, "am atrociously in love with you." Her hands find the human's hands and lift them to the hemline of her shirt, bringing them just under the fabric; she is unable to keep a contented sigh from escaping her as Shepard's fingertips finally meet her skin. "So please, stop fussing and undress me."

Despite the poor lighting in Liara's cabin, the green shining in Shepard's eyes is too bright to overlook. She tugs her hands away from the asari's skin; her hands tug the asari's coat away from her body. "Yes, ma'am."

Everything that happens next happens quickly, so quickly, unbelievably quickly. Her arms are cold, bared to the air like this, but only for a moment. Only until Shepard's lips, her tongue, trace over the stretches of newly exposed skin. They stumble back to the bed, just barely making it, as Shepard pulls insistently at Liara's top.

"You don't wear a bra," the soldier comments.

"Is that a problem?" Being exposed like this is surprisingly easier than Liara expected it to be. A century's worth of asari attitudes towards nudity and community are finally of some use to her. Of course, none of that matters if Shepard doesn't—

A wry smile flashes down at her before a harsh, hot kiss claims her mouth. "Absolutely not." A light kiss flits over the hollow of her throat. Teeth close on the folds of her neck, sharp but gentle.

"Ah!"

"Sorry! I—Did that—I thought that was—Sorry!"

"What? No! Good! It felt good!"

Relief floods the human's face. "Oh, good. For a second…." Her skin darkens. Embarrassment.

Liara leans up, intrigued. "What?"

"Nothing." Shepard bites her lip.

The asari laughs with relief at how predictably awkward they are whenever they try something new together. She tugs at the straps of the human's undergarment. "_What?_ Tell me!"

The blushing woman mumbles something about Dr. Solus and pamphlets and vids before successfully changing the subject by rising up onto her knees and taking off her undergarment. A wide scar arcs over her left breast. Fascinating. Beautiful. Liara stares, the way she did last night. When she traces her fingers over the mark, she can feel Shepard's heartbeat.

"Sorry," Shepard whispers. "Didn't even earn this one. It was there when I woke up. Miranda said Lazarus Project had to shut down before they could finish, um, 'addressing all aesthetic details of my reconstruction.'" She doesn't meet Liara's eyes as she tries to tug the questing touch away. "I know it's ugl—"

The asari only allows her hand be moved so that she can replace it with her tongue. "You idiot," she chides, looking up at the woman straddling her. She cups the soldier's breasts, teases her nipples, and smiles at the whimper she earns when she takes away her touch to lie back down on the bed.

Liara arches as her neck is nipped again and again. A vexing mouth moves higher, lower, runs along her crest. A touch lights on the button of her pants, hesitant and insistent in one; she lifts her hips to help Shepard extricate her from them. The clothes come away with unbearable slowness that somehow still feels much too fast.

Everything stills. Time stops. Liara thinks that she should install more lights in this room. She cannot read the human's expression. She squares her jaw, trying her best not to squirm or plead. Or panic. Her patience gives out before Shepard's.

"You're making me self-conscious. Please, say something."

"_Si quaeris miracula_…." Before she can ask what the words mean, what the reverence in the woman's tone means, her questions die on her tongue, drowned in a rising tide of overwhelming sensation.

…

She is not like Shepard, bolting awake at every stray breeze. Liara has never needed to sleep that lightly, to be constantly on guard against danger. Still, she has her moments. When she jerks out of the deep, dead way she sleeps, throwing herself into consciousness and action, it is because some eighth sense tells her that something is _wrong_.

When she stretches out and runs her hand over the cool, empty pillow next to her, it clenches into a fist. Alone. In the dark. It is not unusual. Shepard always leaves before Liara is awake. She curls into herself, hating that she does. Hating how much she wishes that the commander would stay, would stay through the night, just once.

It should not matter. Liara is nearly one hundred ten years old. Liara is the Shadow Broker. Liara is strong enough not to need—

Strong has nothing to do with it, she decides. Shepard is the person who matters most to her; it would be insane if she did _not_ need reassurance that the human feels as strongly about her.

Finally, she recognizes the sounds thrumming through her cabin and realizes what, exactly has woken her. The shower. Shepard is still here. She did not leave. Liara smiles, climbs out of bed and finds a shirt. Then she presses her hand against the panel of the bathroom door.

Her human stands under the water, back to the door, forehead pressed to the wall.

Something is wrong.

"Shepard?" No response. The bathroom feels too cold. "Are you all right?" Still nothing. She reaches under the water to touch the woman's shoulder. Goddess, this water is freezing! When Shepard glances over her shoulder, her eyes are steeped in sorrow again. Momentarily. Then they widen in horror.

"Li—What the hell!" She crosses her arms over her chest and presses her legs together. "What are you—_I'm naked!_"

Despite the concerns raised by finding her—finding Shepard standing in a cold shower and looking despondent, Liara cannot help her amusement at this sudden attitude transformation. "It bothers you to be seen in a state of undress? Because it did not seem that way earli—"

"Seriously, T'Soni? That was," the human's voice drops and she hisses, "_sex-naked_. This is _bathroom-naked!_"

"So…I should leave?" She takes a step closer to Shepard and almost does a masterful job of not shivering under the cold water.

"I—_Shit_." The commander stares at Liara's chest for a moment before jerking her eyes back up to the asari's face. She bites her lip. "That's my—You're wearing my shirt." She swallows. "You're getting it wet." She sounds almost desperate.

Honestly, sometimes it seems as though the woman ever thinks about is keeping her things neat. "Is that a problem? Do you want it back?"

"You. Are. Evil."

That seems like something of an overreaction. It is only a _shirt_. "I can—"

Shepard pulls on the shirt with one hand so that she can kiss Liara and shut off the water at the same time. It is uncertain which one of them initiates movement, motion, a desperate dash for the main cabin, but somehow the asari ends up with the backs of her legs pressed against the bed. She finds herself pushed gently onto her back, straddled, the collar of the shirt gripped in two insistent hands as Shepard traces kisses from Liara's forehead to her collarbone and utters something forgettably chastising about wearing her clothes. Then a seemingly effortless tug rips the shirt open and the human's mouth is free to roam lower still.

Which it does.

Despite herself, despite her excitement, she freezes when Shepard climbs off the bed to kneel in front of her. She freezes when Shepard shyly kisses her legs and delicately pushes her knees apart. She freezes when Shepard moves closer, kisses her pelvis, and asks, "Is this all right?" She freezes when she feels warm breath skimming over the inside of her thighs, pressing close against her, cooling the little bit of wetness that has been exposed to the air. Despite herself, despite her excitement, Liara freezes.

"No?" Shepard asks.

"I—I don't _know_," the asari admits—whines—frustratedly.

"I, uh," the human pulls away a little and looks up. "If it makes you feel better, I _think_ I can do this better than I…than last…." She trails off, shaking her head, sits back on her heels, and covers her face. "I never had anyone _fake_ it for me before," she mutters. "I feel so—I feel really bad about that. I mean it's one thing if I'm the one—It's just polite, really; I don't like bruising a poor guy's ego, and it's not like I can't finish my—I tend to go for heavy sleepers, so—"

Liara sits up, horrified. "I—Were _you_ fa—"

"What? No! No, I swear! It—You were—Despite a lifetime of assuming that _I _was the authority on what worked and didn't work for me in bed, it seems that your stupid—You know what? I almost wish I _had_ been faking, because at least I'd feel better about—but _no_, damn it, T'Soni, you have to be good at _everything_ you do, don't you? God, you must have been so annoying when you were a kid."

She feels relieved, and feels bad for feeling relieved, but she can't help smiling. Even though her glimpses of Shepard's expression have shown a face identical to the one Liara remembers from the time when the human accidentally ran over a pyjak in the old Mako, Shepard manages to lower her hands from her face and smile.

"You know how you're always complaining about my ego?" The commander rests her chin on Liara's leg. Her smirk is bashful, full of self-mockery, and adorable. "You're not allowed to do that anymore. I have no ego left." She lets out a heavy sigh, making an obvious play for sympathy and reassurance. "I totally feel the way my first boyfriend must have felt. Although, at least you didn't look at me and go, 'Wait, is that it?'"

"You didn't!"

When Shepard nods, her hair brushes against Liara's thigh. Its touch is damp, cold, but also soft, light, distracting, another way the woman in this room is different from the commander known to the rest of the galaxy. "I did. Poor Tarou. The worst is that it wasn't _his_ first time—" She sighs. "I should've been nicer. He tried so hard…I think."

Liara laughs. In spite of all the embarrassment and frustration from earlier in the evening, looks at poor Shepard's earnest, eager, apologetic face, and laughs, and leans down, and kisses that not-quite-pouting mouth.

"That was a pity kiss," the woman accused, fully pouting now.

"It was not."

"Hey, it's fine. I'll take what I can get at this point. To be honest, I'm amazed you didn't toss me out after my miserable—"

"Stop. Please. Self-pity does not become you."

Shepard throws up her hands in mock despair. "And now you don't even think I'm attractive anymore!"

"You are fishing for compliments."

"I am not!" the woman bit her lip. "Unless it's working."

"It is not."

"Damn." A dark eyebrow quirks upward. "Well, in that case, I want my shirt back."

"You mean that you want what is left of your shirt. Honestly, for someone who is usually so fastidious about her belongings, you really do not seem to—"

"Stop gloating, slob." Shepard reaches up, treating the ruined shirt like a jacket and slipping the short sleeves off of Liara's shoulders.

"—take very good care of your…." She has to stop lecturing the soldier when very insistent lips claim her own. And then she can't speak, not when those same lips move to tease her neck, when Shepard's mouth nips and licks and kisses a trail down Liara's body while that voice—_that voice_—murmurs words that she _knows_ did not originate from the human. Still….

"My Worthiness is all my Doubt—

Her Merit—all my fear—

Contrasting which, my quality

Do lowlier—appear—"

Shepard kisses Liara's abdomen, her tongue soothing the slight discomfort caused by dry lips rasping against skin. The woman is kneeling in front of her again, looking up with an expression that would have to be called pleading on anyone else's face.

"Lest I should insufficient prove

For Her beloved Need—

The Chiefest Apprehension

Upon my thronging Mind—"

How is any asari in her right mind supposed to resist that? Resist such vulnerability, from the strongest person in the galaxy? She parts her legs, hands coming to rest on Shepard's shoulders. Liara can't keep her fingers from twisting nervously, but when questioning dark eyes lock onto her own, she manages to nod.

"Are you sure?"

"Do you _want_ me to change my mind?"

"No one is that evil."

"Some of us are that nervous!"

Shepard laughs and kisses her thigh. "Don't be. I mean, I like…having this done to me, and it'd be the eighth deadly sin to screw this up for you, and…" She must run out of words, because the next thing she does is gently press a kiss to Liara's sex.

It's almost too much sensation. A simple gesture should not create new nerve endings this way! The soldier's lips are touching are—and her fingers are there now, opening Liara up further—and her tongue is—and it—

And it is clumsy. And awkward. And _uncomfortable_. Liara tells herself to stay still, not to tug away, but she cannot help twitching. Just slightly. Barely at all.

Of course Shepard notices and pulls away. Of course she does. She climbs onto the bed and holds Liara's hand, cheeks dark. The human presses the asari's knuckles to her lips before murmuring, "Go ahead," and smiling wryly. "I—I think this would probably work better if you, you know, linked us." Her teeth pull on her lower lip. Is this only a point of pride, or is she also nervous? Does she only make the offer for the asari's benefit?

When their minds collide and merge, there is no further need for questions.

Liara vacillates between comfort and awe.

Comfort: the feel of the woman is familiar. Her frenzied feelings are so at odds with the façade she projects to the galaxy every day. Shepard hides herself from her galaxy as though she fears harming it. Being granted an audience with what she sees as her weaknesses, her imperfections, is a heady privilege. Despite the seeming instability of Shepard's emotions, she has a solid, reliable sense of self. Liara knows, even if the human does not, that the cracks and failings are superficial at best. Lines in dust, temporary and distracting, but incapable of shaking the good, strong foundation of her character.

Awe: there is no hesitance here. As the asari settles into the human's mind, she realizes that Shepard is completely open to her. Any barrier her consciousness brushes against instantly collapses. She can even feel the things Shepard actively wants to keep from her: grief, fear, nervousness, and knows that if she pushes even a little, those walls will also come down. No secrets, just honesty to a degree she never expected to experience. Never imagined _could_ be experienced. The weight of Shepard's trust crushes her.

No, wait. That is just _Shepard_ crushing her.

_Would you mind moving, love? I am having difficulty breathing._

"What the—shit!"

Wincing at the sudden, sympathetic soreness in her back, Liara rolls onto her stomach and leans over the edge of the bed to stare amusedly down at Shepard. _Are you all right?_

If the panicked emotions and mental recitations of '_Oh shit,_' and '_Something is wrong_,' and '_What the hell went wrong; am I Liara now?_' cycling through the human's mind are any indication, Shepard believes herself to be far from all right.

"Oh my God, you need to stop doing that!"

_You do not have to address me as a deity, Shepard. 'Liara' will suffice._

With a growl, Shepard rises up and pins Liara to the bed. The asari can sense that the soldier is still confused, still a little disoriented, still nervous, but mostly she is wound up. In every sense of the phrase.

"Are you sure just 'Liara' is all right?" Shepard asks. "You have so many titles." She begins to mutter in her nonsense language, saying things like, "_Regina mundi_," and "_Domina mea_," as her lips ghost against the most sensitive parts of the asari's crest.

_I do not understand a single word you are saying._

"I guess that means you're not an all-knowing goddess, then?" Shepard does not wait for a response before kissing Liara and sliding down between her legs again. This time she stays on the bed. The asari tries hard not to be distracted by the woman's flashbacks of the times she has lain on a bed—or against a wall—somewhere and been touched like this by a human male. There is an intense, clinical cast to the memories, as though Shepard is studying them for—

This time, both of them gasp at the press of Shepard's tongue against Liara's entrance. They move in different directions—the asari seeking more contact, the human seeking less.

"What—" Shepard rasps. "What the hell was that?" _ I __**felt**__ that!_

_A meld is thoughts, emotions, __**physical sensations**__, and more. All at once. Remember?_

_More? What the hell more could there be?_

_Do you really want me to—Oh, Goddess!_

_Hm. So that was…good? Finally, score one for grammatically incorrect Latin phrases!_

_I never said that…I…that…that…felt…_

_Feeling what you're feeling. I am—Oh!—I am rocking—_

_Has…been…a great—Yes! There!—learning curve—_

_Fine. Ah! It's the meld-thing. Happy—_

_You talk too—_

This time, when Liara twitches, when she shudders, it is not from discomfort.

**…**

A scent wakes her, strange and sweet, slipping into her sleep and caressing her until she stirs. Her hand stretches out, sliding against the sheets, searching for Shepard.

Instead, her fingers find an unfamiliar flower. Liara opens her eyes, confused, and stares at the single bloom. She doesn't recognize it, and wonders if it is an Earth flower. She wonders where Shepard found it. When she fidgets with the stem, the velvety red petals brush against her nose and she realizes that the heavy dreamer's perfume of this flower is not what woke her.

When she sits up, she sees that the 'private' part of her cabin, the part the curtain separates from her monitors, feeds, networks, and Glyph, is crowded with flowers. Small blue flowers, lighter in color than her own skin, clustered together in bunches on thick stalks, tied together in bundles of three or four each and left _everywhere_: two each on the side tables; four on the couch; three on the foot of the bed; and one on the sill of the window, silhouetted against the stars visible from the _Normandy's_ docking bay.

_I—I'm not really sure, but—I—You—Flowers. You deserve flowers. And stars._

She remembers Shepard's stuttering sweetness. She smiles. She wonders when Shepard will be back.

* * *

_**Author's Note: **Shepard's poem is by Emily Dickinson. I took some liberties with the gender of the pronouns._


	66. Remain: Shepard

**Remain: Shepard**

When Miranda collapses and Oriana screams for help, it takes Shepard a moment to make herself take action. She's been staring into the dark, after Henry Lawson's body, trying to get herself under control. She knows that her feelings are wrong. She isn't really jealous or furious. She doesn't actually want to shoot Miranda again and again and again, or better yet, shoot Oriana so that Miranda will feel the same way Shepard does. She won't make someone share her helplessness and rage.

A gentle touch on her shoulder. Shepard turns away from it, not knowing whether it's Liara or Kaidan trying to get her attention and not caring. Don't they _understand_—No, of course they don't, and that is a small thing to be grateful for. The soldier tells herself that she's glad neither one of them has this emptiness in them where Tanner used to be.

The touch comes again, so she pulls away again. It's safer this way. Shepard wants to fuck or fight until there's feeling everywhere _but_ her heart, and a soldier can't fight her squadmates. She can't fuck Kaidan, and even if she still could, he wouldn't want to do it right, in a way that hurts her so she doesn't have to think. She _won't_ fuck Liara. Ever. She loves the asari in that stupid romantic-comedy vid way that she never believed in and always made fun of, and she'll short-circuit her own mechanically-augmented brain before she ever uses Liara like that. Not to mention that every time she so much as thinks about the information broker, her heart hurts in a different way that demands all of her attention.

Damn all of it to Hell and beyond! Why couldn't Kai Leng have waited for her to show up? Why couldn't Shepard have filled this hole in her heart with a hard, violent fight? One that pushed blood out of her nose and lips and tore holes in her skin that would bleed and bleed and _hurt_. If she hurts everywhere else, she can forget about the real pain.

Impotence. Normally the word makes her smile, like the immature jackass she is, but now….it's the best word for her.

Where the fuck does Miranda get off on ignoring the war and spending all her time trying to save her little sister? Why couldn't Shepard have stayed on Earth and protected Tanner?

**…**

"I'm sorry, sir," Shepard says to Hackett's hologram. She clasps her hands behind her stiff, straight back, hiding her white knuckles. Her eyes won't give her away. They aren't red. She hasn't cried for her boy. Her godson. What kind of monster is she? "I'm sorry, but I don't understand. Why can't the Alliance officially grant Ms. Lawson a pardon? Even just temporarily? Dr. Chakwas tells me that the wounds she received are severe enough to require—"

The admiral cuts her off with a gesture. Generations of military breeding assert themselves in her genetics; her spine stiffens a bit more.

"Like it or not, Shepard, the galaxy still sees Miranda Lawson Cerberus' poster girl. Recovering her from Sanctuary, where you claim Cerberus was using the lure of a refugee camp to acquire alien test subjects for their research on indoctrination—This is a headache we can't afford right now. Not while we're getting ready for the endgame.

"The Alliance is having a hard enough time maintaining its alliances with the other races—we're _begging_ them for help building the Crucible, and to commit troops to helping Earth, remember? After the attempted coup and the near-assassinations of the alien councilors by Udina—"

Shepard opens her mouth to say, "But I stopped him, and I'm human! I flew under Cerberus colors, and I got pardoned!" Her jaw clamps shut before a single sound can escape her. _Soldier_, she reminds herself. _Alliance soldier_. There's a chain of command. Orders and protocol to obey. They've left her to her own devices for too long if she's even capable of thinking about interrupting an admiral who isn't a blood relative.

"—we just don't have the political capital to waste on one known terrorist. I'm sorry, Commander." He looks sorry, too.

"Sir, I'd like to request permission to use my Spectre status to obtain medical aid from Huerta Memorial for Ms. Lawson." There isn't a human on the Council at the moment. Hackett is as close as she's going to get.

The selfish request earns her a stern response. "I'll leave that to your conscience, Shepard." The admiral is disappointed in the commander. "If she has information that makes her life more valuable than the lives of patients already in Huerta…." He trails off because there's no need to explain any more to her; he knows there isn't.

She's being thoughtless again. This is why she needs superior officers, to remind her of the bigger picture. Friends die. Family dies. This is war, Commander Shepard. There are more important things than you. More important things than the people you love. The Reapers will take everything from everyone if Shepard doesn't stop them. Somehow.

She nods. "Understood, sir." She hesitates. "Sir, could I—please—speak to my mother?" Please? Let Shepard be the one to break the latest news from Earth. The commander tries not ask the Alliance for much. Don't send my mother into battle. Let me have doctors for my friend. The Alliance says no, and that's the right answer. She serves the Alliance, not the other way around. Still, this is such a small thing.

Hackett's stony expression goes even stonier. "I…" He covers his eyes with a hand that's veiny and old-looking. It doesn't fit his broad, straight shoulders, though it matches the worn tiredness of his face perfectly. "We've lost contact with the rescue teams on Dekuuna."

Shepard can't breathe. "Sir?"

"Admiral Shepard and her squad are MIA on the elcor homeworld." His hand drops away from his face and suddenly all his sympathy is gone. "I'll update you as developments occur. Until then, your orders are to refrain from wasting the _Normandy_ on missions that don't have the approval of the Alliance brass. This side trip to Horizon was a mistake; you've got nothing to show for it. We can't afford for you of all people to make these kinds of mistakes." The impassive look on his face flickers for a moment, and she can see his pain the way she knows he can see hers. "I _am_ sorry, Shepard. Truly. Hackett out."

Something inside the weak part of the commander that has gone through life labeled as Baby Shepard—the part that is (was?) daughter, cousin, friend, niece, granddaughter, lover, and not soldier—breaks. Irreparably. She sinks to her knees, presses her hands to her mouth and sobs; she screams as hard as she can, in a way that no one can hear.

**…**

She hits the wall, not the bag Vega hung up for people who wanted that kind of workout.

No gloves, she loves watching her own blood coat her hands and drip onto the floor. Even if the cuts on her hand pull together as she watches. Start to scab and heal and fix themselves because she's not quite human any more, and so she can punch metal walls, and they'll dent and she'll heal.

Part of her expects EDI to come down and stop her, scold her for damaging the _Normandy's_ hull integrity or something.

Part of her hopes she punches through the wall and that the vacuum of space comes rushing back in to claim her.

That frozen suffocation hadn't been the worst way to die, had it?

Better that than being crushed by Dekuuna's gravity and torn apart by Reaper creatures.

Better that than being murdered by indoctrinated Cerberus agents.

Better that than being rounded up as a member of the Resistance, taken to one of Earth's new internment camps, and executed for attempting to incite rebellion against the Reapers.

Her fists hit the metal with a rhythm that she wants to deny her thoughts are moving in. Her father, his life, his legacy, what he'd wanted for her, who he'd wanted her to be, she rejected all of that years ago. Her soul belongs to the Alliance, the only god she's ever worshipped.

The words she should have forgotten years ago are still there, in her mind. Comforting her in a way she doesn't deserve. Like sweet lies for the damned.

No, she corrects herself. Like something Thane would have said as he folded his scaly, funny-shaped hands around hers and tried to lift her out of the sad hole a lifetime of being too aware of her worthlessness dug for her. Most days, Shepard sat in her hole and looked up at the sun, the stars, and everything was fine, but some days, all she could see were dirt walls penning her in. On days like that, Thane used to toss down a rope for her.

Screw it. She lets herself think the words, pant them out loud. For her godson. Anything for him, anything to help him. It's not the way her grandparents taught her, she tweaks it for reality, and doesn't try to shove it into Latin. If God—or Athame, or the spirits, or Kalahira, or whoever—is really all they say He is, He'll understand.

_Into Your hands, Oh Lord, I humbly entrust my Tanner. _

_In this life, I loved and protected him the best I could._

_Please, Sir, don't let all of him be gone forever._

_Now that he has passed from this life, may he live on in Your presence._

_Deliver him from every evil, and grant him eternal peace, and the comfort of Your light._

_In Your mercy and love, forgive whatever sins he may have committed._

_Add them to the tally of my own human weaknesses, Sir, I can take it._

_I ask this through Christ our Lord._

_Amen._

**…**

She's still in a stupor, still moving slowly and stolidly through the ship when she's summoned to the starboard observation deck. No. The portside deck. Where Tali is drinking. Tali, who EDI seems to think has taken what happened at Sanctuary particularly hard.

It must have been so hard for Tali to witness horrors on Horizon. Again. To smell all that death, to realize that her species was capable of such atrocities. After losing her cousin, too. The little godson she'd abandoned for two years while she was dead, who she'd only seen on monitored vid calls since coming back, who she hadn't touched since before she was assigned to the _Normandy_ for the first time—a lifetime ago. After finding out that the Alliance she relied on failed to keep the one thing she knew she had left safe. There won't even be a body to bury if Tali lives to the end of the war. There won't be any bodies: godson, cousins, mother, father. The little quarian has lost so much; this has been so hard on her. Poor Tali.

Oh, wait. None of that happened to Tali. It happened to Shepard.

She stops, press her head against the metal doors. Breathing. This isn't Tali's fault. She can't blame her for this, for having her own emotions. Her own needs. Shepard wants to hit something. She wishes she was back below decks, punching the wall and bleeding by herself. Pain and violence and anything but this. Anything but being strong and supportive Commander Shepard.

She wants to cry. She wants her mother. She opens the door.

"I am working, Tali." Is Liara in here? No. Oh. Tali's drunk-dialing everyone. Despite everything, Shepard feels her lips quirk up in a weak smile. She's never seen Tali drunk. "In case you have forgotten, we are at war." Liara sounds a little self-righteous, like _she's_ never gotten drunk and broken into someone's room in the middle of the night looking to have a very inconvenient conversation. Hypocrite.

It's so stupid that the sound of the asari's voice—her _irritated_ voice—can make Shepard feel a little better. She makes her way over to the bar, trying to get closer to Liara.

"Working? You sound just like Mirrrrran—_Hey, Shepard! I have a question for you!_"

"Shepard?" The distance that the comm system gives her isn't enough to muffle the Shadow Broker's agitation. "We'll talk another time, little sister." The light on the communications panel on the wall goes dark.

"Aw you scared her off, Shepard," the quarian gripes. "We were going to gossip. _Finally_."

"I could leave, if you want."

"No!" The intoxicated admiral grabs the soldier's arm. "If you leave, I'll have no one to talk to. Except Javik. I haven't called Javik yet. Do you think he'd want to talk about sex?"

Is Shepard drunk? She doesn't remember drinking, but she feels drunk. Either that, or she's finally having a bizarre dream. She decides she prefers dreams like this to nightmares, but only just. Still, even in the strangest dream that has ever been dreamed, Shepard can't imagine—"Don't try to talk to Javik about sex. For your own safety, kiddo."

"You are no fun. No wonder Liara likes you."

Because she is a first-class idiot, the bottom drops out of her stomach, and Shepard turns back into a nervous recruit on leave with her friends for a night, clustered around a table and trying to understand how to gossip with girls who grew up planetside. "You honestly think she likes me?" Could it really have been obvious to everyone but Shepard? How much time did the commander waste?

The quarian pounds her head dramatically against the counter. "If you are really asking me that question, you are stupid. Stupider than I thought. More stupid? I don't know. Here!" Tali slides her glass towards Shepard and the human notices what looks like a straw dangling out of the mouthpiece of her helmet. "Drink with me. Before I called your _girlfriend_," the word sends the woman's stomach into freefall again, "I was toasting Miranda. I think. Drink with me."

Tali stumbles off of her stool and towards a bottle. "I'll pour myself another—"

"Don't bother." Shepard stares at the dextro-safe alcohol. It could kill her. She gives it back "I'll pour myself something else. I don't really like…."

"Turian brandy."

"Right. You know how racist I try to be."

"Racist," Tali scoffs, sliding her straw back into the glass. "You? You're too perrrfect, Shepard."

People keep saying things like that to Shepard. Doesn't anyone pay attention to the way things go to shit whenever she's around? Or in charge? "Now who's being racist? Miranda's the perfect one. Just 'cause we're both brunettes, isn't an excuse, Admiral."

"Ugh." Helmet meets countertop once again. "She really was perfect, wasn't she?"

"Is." The word shoots out of Shepard's mouth like a bullet. "She's not dead, Tali, don't talk about her like…that."

"Sorry." The quarian's voice is tiny. "I know you two were—are, _are!_—friends. This must be hard for you."

"I've had worse," the commander lies.

"You're lying."

"…I know."

A three-fingered hand stretches out and lands on Shepard's arm. She can't feel the quarian's envirosuit against her skin, and she realizes that she's still wearing her workout clothes. Over her compression suit. God, she is such a mess.

"You don't always have to do everything on your own, you know," Tali says. "The whole reason you have a ground team—Friends. The whole reason you have friends is so that they can look out for you."

"It's not fair—"

"What's not fair is having your father die and dump his secrets and expectations in your lap without ever getting a chance to tell him to stop treating you like a soldier and start treating you like a daughter, and then having to listen to the perfect Cerberus cheerleader bosh'tet tell _her_ father to go to hell over the comms. Because she's perfect. Bitch."

"It always comes back to the daddy issues with this crew," Shepard teases. "Next time I save the galaxy, I set sail with a ship full of orphans."

"You realize I qualify under that criteria now, Captain Bosh'tet."

"You get a mouth on you when you're drunk, don't you?"

"I always have a mouth. You just can't see it." There's a loud slurping noise, then Tali squeezes the human's arm. "Can I ask you a question, Captain?"

"Only if you don't call me that. You outrank me, Admiral."

"You'd make a terrible quarian. 'Rank' doesn't matter. You'll always be my captain. Captain."

"Ask away, then."

"How—When do we get to stop reacting to our parents? When do we live for ourselves?"

Shepard thinks about how she let herself die and come back to life and didn't take any time to try and mend fences with her father. 'Help people, Moonshiny,' he'd always said to her. 'Save lives.' She thinks about how she grew up with her mother's rules about family and honor and carrying out orders. 'You're a Shepard,' her mother would tell her whenever Shepard screwed up. 'Don't forget what that means.'

"Captain?" Tali tugs insistently on her arm. "Captain? When?"

"Ask Miranda when she wakes up," Shepard finally says. "I sure as hell don't know."

**…**

Last lifetime, as much alcohol as she's had would've been enough to take Shepard out of commission for days. Not anymore. There isn't any Ryncol aboard ship (she suspects Garrus got rid of it on one of his damn 'keep Shepard miserably sober' crusades), and she's not dumb enough to drink rubbing alcohol, so she's temperate as a nun. No, she's as steady as Grandmother Upton.

For the first time since the war started, Shepard wonders if her last remaining grandparent is alive. She isn't sure if she should hope that the old dragon is still kicking. It's one thing to feel hopeful for the family that can fight, but Grandmother Upton was part of the family that never thought war would affect them.

"You don't have to stay with me, Captain," Tali murmurs. Shepard has been pumping the quarian full of water since they finished talking about Miranda. She's almost sober, but she's had to use the bathroom three times—and needed the human's help to do so. That was an experience. Why don't Shepard's friends ever get inconveniently wasted with people that aren't her?

"I'm not staying with you. I'm resting, after I hauled your heavy ass down here." The quarian had had Shepard help her to a cot below the engineering deck. The commander thought it was funny that the most social female she knew had taken over the space originally claimed by the _least_ social female she knew.

"I love you, Shepard."

The aliens on the _Normandy_ are not allowed to be drunk around Shepard anymore. Or maybe just the female ones. Garrus has never told Shepard he loves her when they get wasted together. Kaidan did, once. It was awkward. Does Javik drink? She doesn't want to find out. From now on the _Normandy_ is a dry ship.

"You're my sister. I just wanted to say that. Wanted you to know that. In case we die."

"That won't happen. I'm not gonna let you die."

"You can't promise that."

"Hey. I'm Commander Fucking Shepard, don't you know that? I don't make promises. I make truths."

"Really?"

"Really. You're gonna die of old age, kiddo. That's a fact."

"Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Are you going to die of old age, too?"

"I already died, Tali."

"So, you're not going to die again?"

The soldier gets off the foot of the cot. "Get some rest. Feel better, kiddo." She's on the stairs when she says it. If Tali has a response, Shepard doesn't hear it.

"What did the quarian mean, 'die again?'" Javik stands at the head of the stairs, arms folded, expression contemptuous. Shepard closes her eyes. She doesn't want to talk about this. To him. To anyone, really, but especially not to him. He must sense it, because he reaches out and touches her. One hand on her hand, the other on the wall of the ship. She grits her teeth at the intrusion. The Prothean is so arrogant. Rude. And still, she prefers this invasion to his conversation.

"I see." He releases her. "There was a _Normandy_ before this one. You…died. You were resurrected to fight the Reapers."

"That's what they tell me," Shepard sighs. "Javik, I've had a crap day. What do you want?"

"Your family was here when you came back."

"Javik…"

"They are gone now, though."

Her hands curl into fists. Big Shepard's voice is in her head. _Save the fight for the enemy, Baby_. "Javik, you need to shut up."

"You still have reasons to fight. Friendships of those around you. And more. The asari—"

"Her name is Liara."

"Yes." Javik agrees with her like he's doing her a favor. "Mating outside your species is unnatural. Your union cannot produce children." Shepard stiffens and thinks only about the family she's never going to see again. Today, all roads lead to Tanner. "You should have remained with the biotic. He could father your children." The Prothean turns and walks away, heading for his quarters.

Sorry, Mom. Her temper is up. She storms through the door after him. "Do you _want_ me to kill you? You perfect _asshole_."

Four yellow eyes blink contemptuously at her. "Yes."

She has to admit that that isn't the answer she was expecting.

"Unlike you, Commander, I joined with one of my own kind. My son was named Thuad."

"And he's gone now, so you're lonely, so you're an asshole. Life sucks." She can't pity him. She doesn't even want to.

"I killed my son. He was indoctrinated, and I cut his throat. It was necessary. The Reapers thought we would hesitate if they turned our children against us."

Despite her better judgment, her heart breaks for him. "You're still an asshole."

"And you are an idiot. You have family left. People who care for you. Regardless of your blood. People who live. People who give you reason to continue living." He gestures at a slim, glowing object on the table next to Shepard. "All that remains to me is an echo shard."

"A what?"

"The memories of my people. From a time before the Reapers to this moment now, that we are enduring together. A simple touch allows me to relive thousands of lifetimes. To relive my first life. Every scrap of happiness I ever had. I have almost forgotten every person I ever loved. Their faces, the sounds of their voices. I could call them back to me. But…with the absence of memory comes the absence of pain."

Shepard stares at the shard. "Bring them back? Relive every good moment? It'd be worth it," she says. Without thinking, she stretches out her hand, as though _her_ memories are stored in the Prothean's device. "It'd be worth anything." Javik nods crossly, like a drill sergeant she's made simultaneously proud and frustrated by answering his questions correctly. He reaches for the echo shard. She slaps his hand away.

"Let me finish!" His biotics flash dangerously. "I'd give anything to have everyone back. To have all those moments again. I'd give up everything I have now—I'd give up the present for those memories. I'd stop trying to make new ones. Better ones. I'd stop living. Stop fighting. And I have to fight. _You_ have to fight. Leave it alone."

He stares, then nods, then turns back to his water table.

She's almost through the door when he fires his parting shot.

"If you do not have an echo shard to hold you in its thrall, why are you still so hesitant to move forwards in your life, Commander? Next time, it could be the asari the medical bay. When that happens, you won't even have the comfort of memories to sustain you after her death."

Shepard makes herself step into the hall. He's right, and she hates it, but she tells herself that he's wrong, and Miranda's not going to die, and Liara's _never_ going to die. She tells herself that he's wrong, but she knows that he's right.

He's right, and she hates it, and she can't waste any more time.

**…**

She should have known that the sex would be terrible.

First off, Shepard is _terrified_. What if this goes wrong, and Liara ends up hating her forever? What if she ruins sex for the asari? No, she tells herself. She knows what she's doing—more or less. She read some of the pamphlets in that old box of Mordin's that Chakwas found, and she watched parts of the vids. Hell, she knows the difference between an asari azure and their version of a clitoris, and that's more than most people can say. Everything will be fine.

She knows what she's doing when it comes to foreplay—it's not _that_ different. The nervousness is different though. Somehow, she ends up making Liara self-conscious enough to ask whether or not Shepard even wants to be together like this. Which of course, leads to a ridiculous, rambling response.

"I want—What _I _want? Liara, I don't know how to want things that aren't you anymore. But I—What I don't want is for you to feel like—I wasn't as ready as I thought I was, my first time, but I didn't realize until after. I mean, granted, you're older than me, but you're smarter too. You know yourself better. And anyway, like this, on the _Normandy,_ even though I love her, it's… not good enough. I mean, you know me well enough to know not to expect too much from me. Which I'm sorry for, by the way. Normally this is where I'd point out that you can do better, but I'm selfish enough to want you not to realize that. I just—I wish I could give you better. You should have something special, a hotel on the Presidium at least. I—I'm not really sure, but—I—You—Flowers. You deserve flowers. And stars."

Flowers? What the hell? Could she have said anything more ridiculous? She can barely look the asari in the eye.

Shepard decides not to press her luck anymore. Today has been a complete failure in so many ways. Her godson is dead. Kai Leng wasn't on Horizon. Barring divine intervention, Miranda is going to die. Her mother is missing. She's sober. Banging her fists against the walls of the cargo bay wasn't a permanent fix. She feels bad for Prothy, and she _hates _him. Her performance anxiety means that her unbelievably forgiving asari is probably never going to get laid—unless they break up, which Shepard doesn't want to think about.

She just wants to fall asleep, to curl up and feel safe and not think. She snaps at Glyph and grabs the clothes she brought so she can change.

She's trying to decide whether she should pull her shirt on and _then_ try and extricate herself from her bra, or if she should take off her bra and pull on her shirt like an adult who's not afraid to be topless around the more-than-friend who's already seen her topless, when she feels someone touching the scars on her back. Looking for them. Tracing them.

"What are you doing?"

The smile on Liara's face tells Shepard that what she is doing is taking charge. Undress me, she orders, pulling the commander after her, pulling them to the bed.

A good soldier obeys orders.

For a little while, it's perfect, even though they both have to deal with the awkwardness of learning a new body. Still, everything happens better than a dream. Liara forgives the soldier's scars—she almost seems to admire them. When the asari looks up at the human, blue hands rubbing nervously over her bare thighs, and tells Shepard to say something, Shepard doesn't just stare, like an idiot. She's still an idiot, but for once, the stupid thing she can't help thinking is the right thing.

"_Si quaeris miracula_…." _If you search for miracles…_. Melodramatic? Corny? Blasphemous? Yeah. But absolutely true.

The problem with perfect is that it doesn't last.

"I—You—" Shepard can't even form full sentences anymore. Her confidence has been lined up against the wall and unceremoniously shot through the head. She disentangles herself from Liara, ignoring the asari's feeble protests, and lies back on the bed, examining her humiliation from every angle.

"Shepard?" There's genuine concern in that voice. Or is it pity? One thing that isn't in that voice is any sense of satisfaction. "Shepard, are you all right?" A hand slips under the human's neck, two fingers rest lightly against her hairline. It feels like she's having her temperature taken, but in the wrong place.

"Could you just hand me a pillow? Please?" The commander shuts her eyes, not wanting to admit to the reality of this. When something cool comes to rest on her abdomen, she grabs at it, presses it to her face.

"Are you all right?" Liara asks again.

"Fine," she huffs into the pillow.

There's a pause. Shepard can't hear much, but chances are high that the Shadow Broker is doing research, trying to figure out what is wrong with the human, if this is normal behavior. "Are you…What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to kill myself."

"Oh." Hands tug at the pillow, at Shepard's hands. She grips it tighter and redoubles her efforts to smother herself. "That seems irresponsible. Given how important you are to the war effort—"

The soldier pulls the pillow off her face so that she can stare incredulously at the asari. "Now I really have nothing left to live for. Thanks."

"For—" Liara's biotics flare as she rips the pillow away and climbs on top of Shepard. She holds the human's face, forcing their gazes to lock. She looks _angry_. "You have to talk to me. Those are the rules. You can't just…_stop_, and ask for a pillow and then tell me you're trying to kill—You have to talk to me."

Shepard can feel herself blush. "I—You were faking it."

Blue eyes go wide, shocked. "I was n—"

"No lying. Those are the rules."

When the asari blushes, her face goes purple. "I—How could you—"

Shepard wishes Liara wasn't pinning her down so that she could hide her face somewhere. Preferably in the smothering-pillow. "Research, remember?" Maybe she _should_ have tried sleeping with Allers, just for the hands-on experience. On the other hand, sex with someone she wasn't even attracted to would only end badly. Especially when that someone was a reporter. "Clearly, I didn't do enough, or the right kind, or—I tried though, and I mean, I know how to tell when—The last two guys I slept with were both biotics, remember? It's pretty easy to tell when you biotics are—Because you…."

"What do biotics—Oh. _Oh_."

"Kind of hard to miss the fireworks display. Even Kaidan, uh, and you know how much self-control he usually…. Oh God, can I please go back to dying of embarrassment now?"

Her request is ignored as Liara considers the flaw in her earlier performance. "I forgot about that," the asari sounds guilty, as though _she_ is the one who should be embarrassed. "Next time, I'll—"

"I can't decide if your commitment to trying to fool me is adorable or mortifying." Shepard can't help feeling hurt at the (completely justifiable) lack of faith in her ability to satisfy Liara. "You know, we don't have to do this again. If you don't want to. I'm sure you could find someone who—" The words won't come; they actually choke her. Crap. She's never been the jealous sort. Maybe because she's never had someone worth being jealous over?

"Since when does the great Commander Shepard give up so easily?" The sympathy lighting Liara's eyes starts to spark, flaring into some emotion that's hard to properly label. It looks like a cross between need and naughtiness. The soldier bites her lip and rubs her thighs together, not sure whether she's earned the right to be excited.

"I believe that it is time for you to embrace a new set of tactics," the asari declares, capturing Shepard's hand in her own and adjusting her grip until she holds the human's wrist. Their joined hands run over Shepard's body: touching her face, caressing her neck, flitting over her chest, sliding down her abdomen. Then lifted, her palm kissed by Liara, and Shepard holds her breath as her first two fingers are drawn into a warm, welcoming mouth, licked and sucked delicately. She holds her breath as she watches and tries not to squirm, not appreciating how something about Liara leaves her with less self-control than a teenage boy.

The air of the cabin feels cold and unforgiving against her fingers once they're released. When she whimpers, Liara smiles and shifts so that she kneels above Shepard rather than sits on top of her. The woman instantly misses the weight and warmth, the closeness. "Ready?" the asari asks.

Shepard hesitates. "Not sure I think that this is a good—"

"You're thinking too much, love. Do you _think_ you can stop for a while?"

"Follow orders?" Orders are good. She's at her best when someone else is doing the thinking for her.

"Orders? I suppose…I should have thought of that myself." Liara looks shy. "Are you sure…?"

Shepard nods, eagerly. "Ask any of my superior officers how well I perform when they lay out clear orders for me." She frowns when she realizes she's left herself open for all sorts of innuendo, but luckily, the Shadow Broker seems to have missed that slip.

"Well then," Liara says, as though she has heard all that she needs to. "Just consider me your superior officer." She brings their hands down to the space between their bodies, uses her hands to rotate Shepard's hand, and slips the human's slick fingers inside of herself. They both sigh with relief. It doesn't take long to confirm that in addition to all her more obvious superiorities, Liara is a brilliant strategist and relentless in executing a plan of attack

Shepard is still a little embarrassed when they fall asleep, but she's also unbelievably content. Miraculously enough, they both are. _Si quaeris miracula_….

She should have known that the sex would be incredible.

**…**

She jerks awake somewhere strange, not sure how she got here, and hating that about herself, hating that she can lose her awareness of the waking world so easily. She should be spending _more _time awake, _more_ time working, _more_ time fighting, rescuing, fighting, fighting, fighting. More time being the Commander Shepard that the galaxy relies on.

There's no point in thinking about how or who she should be. She just needs to _be_ that person.

"Get up!" she whispers, putting all the martial force she can muster into the command.

Her body obeys. She stretches her arms out, preparing to push herself into a sitting position.

She brushes against something soft. Something warm. Something—_Someone_ familiar, who sleeps so soundly that Shepard's careless touch can't rouse her. Someone who's pretty much perfect.

Liara. She's with Liara, in Liara's cabin, and she's sleeping in Liara's bed….

It takes a little effort, but Shepard manages not to get lost in bright new memories, ones that she hopes never fade or lose their allure, even if that means they stay embarrassing forever.

It takes a _lot_ of effort, but Shepard manages not to lean over, kiss Liara awake, and try and sweet-talk the poor, overworked information broker into making more new memories. It isn't fair though, anything she tried to start would probably be at least partly an attempt to soothe her wounded pride. Still, she wants the asari to wake up, to smile at her and take pity on her and let her touch that beautiful blue skin again. She wants a chance to be _better_.

She lies awake for a while, wondering why it's so hard to keep her hands to herself, wondering why she can't fall back asleep. Will she sound totally fake if she tells Liara she loves her now, after they've had sex? Would those words have been less convincing when the soldier was supposedly trying to charm her way into the asari's pants—for all the good _that_ did her? When she starts fighting the urge to wake Liara up and tell her, partly because she wants to tell her, and partly because she wants to touch Liara again, she decides she should probably take a shower.

It's not until she's standing under the uncomfortably chill water that Shepard realizes her thoughts of Liara have been replaced by thoughts of Thane. Of Liv. Of Mordin. Of Ashley, of Mike, of Jack, of her father, of Tanner. Of her mother.

No. Big Shepard hasn't been declared KIA, just MIA. She could still come back. She will. She has to. She'll bring her daughter back a rock. She always does.

"Mom," Shepard whispers, leaning against the wall and feeling weak.

Something brushes the human's bare shoulder, and she whips around so quickly and violently that her elbow cracks the wall.

Blue eyes. _Liara_.

Shepard tries to cover herself with her hands. Asari have no sense of decency! Liara looks amused, the way she did every time the human blushed or mumbled earlier. Then the smile fades and she comes closer to the woman. Concerned. Her shirt gets wet and starts to…cling…. Before she can stop herself, Shepard glances at the asari's chest. Her nipples are stiff, pressing against the cloth—oh _God_, is that Shepard's shirt?—Shelicks her lips, imagining and remembering and wanting.

The next thing she knows, she's straddling Liara on the bed, kissing the asari. "I go insane," she kisses Liara's neck, "when you," nips at the hollow of that blue throat, "wear my clothes." Liara's hands find Shepard's face. She pulls their mouths together.

"I want them off of you," the human tugs her mouth free, and begins to tease the folds of Liara's crest with her fingers. Desperate gasps are their own reward; they're proof Shepard can at least do _something_ right. She kisses the asari again. "Off." She nudges the collar of the shirt aside, takes the blue skin of a shoulder into her mouth, sucking at it. Wanting to bite, but afraid to, afraid to mark or mar Liara, afraid to leave any sign of her own imperfection on someone who's pretty much perfect.

Frustrated, she takes the shirt in her hands and strains just enough to tear it open. Maybe it's her imagination, but she thinks that they both breathe a little easier once they're exposed to each other again. Shepard can't help smiling as she nips and licks her way down Liara's body. When she needs more room to maneuver, she slides herself off the bed; she wants to taste every inch of the asari. Plus, she at least knows how _this_ is supposed to work; it stands to reason she'll have an easier time of it than she had—

Liara stops her, probably in an attempt to spare them both from more awkwardness. Shepard can't blame her. She grins in embarrassment, and tries to make them both feel better by joking about her own first time—her own first disappointment. It works. Liara laughs. Laughs and kisses the human, and lets Shepard tug the ruins of the shirt all the way off of her perfect shoulders, and then, astonishingly, opens herself up to the clumsy, stupid grunt, and gives her a chance.

Which Shepard promptly screws up, because apparently being on the receiving end of oral sex is not sufficient to make you any good at going down on someone yourself, no matter how pure (impure?) your motivations are. She notices the instant Liara squirms in discomfort and realizes that she has to offer more. No matter how uncomfortable the thought of being vulnerable like that makes _her_. If Liara's willing to trust her body to the clearly incompetent Shepard, Shepard should be willing to trust her mind to the clearly competent Liara.

So…she does. Being joined like this is awkward and disconcerting and disorienting and frightening, but it gives Shepard new insight, new hints. A new sense of what works and how it works. She remembers what one ex said about spelling words with his tongue, and that helps too.

Finally, for a too-brief moment, the lines between Shepard and Liara blur completely until they're almost the same person, and the whole thing is as perfect as anything can be.

**…**

Everything feels different when she wakes up this time. It's disorienting for a moment, like the world is new, or shinier, or…_off_ somehow. Or maybe it's only the fact that she's waking to the buzz of an omni-tool. That never happens. She's always up before the watch tones, before her alarms, before she needs to be. There's no long stretches of sleep for Commander Shepard, there can't be until the war is over.

Her omni-tool buzzes again. The obnoxious noise makes Liara sigh and stir next to her, starting to wake. Is the noise really that loud? The asari sleeps like no one Shepard's ever met. She sleeps like she's unconscious, or trying to be. It's enviable. It's worth protecting.

The human lunges out of bed and swipes her tool. "What's so important?" she hisses, stabbing buttons at random until she manages to bring up the message. It's simple, to-the-point.

_You need surgeons. I need off of this stupid station. Let's talk. Docking bay 42. Ten minutes._

—_Omega_

As she pulls on her pants and hopes Liara wouldn't mind lending her a shirt—Where does the incredibly disorganized Shadow Broker keep her—Oh, or better, there's her coat—Hey, that doesn't look half-bad—As she fastens up the coat and realizes that she's only got six minutes to be on time, the soldier thinks that at the very least, a talk with Aria T'Loak means an interesting morning.

The asari isn't there when Shepard reaches the deserted docking bay. A batarian is. In full armor. He says something snide, Shepard tries not to let her hangover-like state push her into punching him, and then a car pulls up out of nowhere. The batarian opens a door to reveal the smirking Queen of the Lawless.

"Nice coat, Shepard," she nods. "Get in."

Shepard takes the seat next to her. "I don't have time for melodrama. Can you get me surgeons?"

"It isn't melodrama, it's privacy. A luxury I thought you'd appreciate, considering you're here to beg the galaxy's most wanted criminal to save a terrorist's life. You could stand to be more polite, considering."

She has such a headache. "Seriously, Aria, I'm not in the mood."

The asari cocks her head at the human, breathes deeply though her nose. Her smirk takes on a new quality that sets the commander's teeth on edge. "I can…sense that. All right, I'll cut to the chase. It's time to take Omega back. That means a ground war, and that means I'll need the best. Despite your soft touch, you're the best.

"Here's what I'm offering. I pay some private doctors an exorbitant amount of credits, you grant them access to the _Normandy_, they save Miranda Lawson's life. In exchange, you come with me and we kick Cerberus off Omega. I'm put back on my throne, and once balance is restored to the galaxy, everything I've got is at your disposal: ships, mercs, eezo—whatever you need."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"Sounds too good to be true."

"You're an optimist, Shepard. Or incredibly stupid. Did you miss the part where I mentioned there would be a ground war on Omega? This won't be your usual Alliance assignment. With your usual Alliance teams."

For the first time in her life, Shepard wants to be as far away from the Alliance as possible. They need…time apart. "So…you want me to leave my crew behind."

"Crew. Ship. If possible, you should leave your scruples and hang-ups, but I won't ask for a miracle."

"You want me to be your hired gun. Me. Commander Shepard. Do you have any idea what that means? Who I am? My blood's bluer than yours."

"I'll ignore the fact that my blood is actually purple and assume that you're making some grand, human statement about where your loyalties lie. Don't waste our time. I'm not hiring you, or trying to corrupt you. I'm offering you a good deal. Hell, I'm practically offering you a partnership." Aria's smile flickers with that emotion that puts the soldier on edge again. "Think about it."

The car pulls up to the curb. They're on the Presidium.

"You're dumping me off here?" Aria is older than Shepard's dead great-grandparents, and she's being this immature? "If I'd said yes, would you at least have taken me back to my ship?"

"You're going to say yes, Shepard. And even knowing that, your ride ends here."

"When are we leaving?"

"As soon as you get your gear and meet Bray on Dock 42. I don't like waiting."

"Two hours. Maybe three. Not more. I've got things to take care of."

"People to say goodbye to?" There's that damn smile again.

"Armor to paint," Shepard growls. "I'm not going to dance around Omega with my N7 stripe on my shoulder."

"Paint it on the way there. Bray, you'll pick up the commander in one hour."

"Send the doctors now."

The door next to Shepard slides open, and Aria nods. "Done. I'll call them."

"Tell them to tell EDI their Spectre Authorization number is Number One, Baby!"

"You want me to tell them to say _that?_"

"Verbatim."

"That's ridiculous."

"_I'm _ridiculous. Get used to it, partner."

"And just like that, I begin to suspect that I've made a huge mistake."

Shepard can feel her eyes go dead. Feel her face shape the way her mother taught her to shape it when facing a bully. Someone who only respects strength. "I am _never_ a mistake. In the spirit of full disclosure though, you did make a mistake."

It's hard not to smile when Aria's face takes on a dangerous cast. "What mistake?"

Shepard grins as she climbs out of the car. "I would've gone after Cerberus for nothing."

"I'm supposed to believe that you would let your friend die—"

"Because of Cerberus, this war is still going—There are still Reapers on Earth, and my—my—" She can't. She can't tell…Tanner is none of Aria's business. Of anyone's business. He is Shepard's, just Shepard's, because Katie and Phil can't be alive if he's not, and because Big Shepard might not be out there anymore. Just Shepard's.

She forces herself to breathe. "People on Earth who should be alive are dead because Cerberus wanted to play games with me. I would've _destroyed_ the ones on Omega and thanked you for letting me, Aria." Straightening, she starts to close the door. "Two hours."

A surly voice comes from the car. "One."

Two hours would've given her enough time to talk to Liara, but with only an hour, she's going to have to figure out a faster way to say goodbye. Not to mention that now she's got to double-time it to the markets for non-standard-issue clothes and—

"Damn it."

She always gets lost in the lower markets, so she stays up on the Presidium to shop. A bad idea; everything's forty times more expensive up here. Shepard grits her teeth and shells out the credits for two sets of compression clothes for under her armor. Four practical shirts, two pairs of sturdy, sensible pants. Almost a whole minute is wasted in front of a window staring at sleek little burgundy dress that'll soften Shepard's shoulders, hide her scars, fall right to her knees, make the dull green in her eyes pop and brighten the way Liara likes.

"Damn it."

Thirty minutes to catch a cab back to the _Normandy_, pack her new stuff in her duffel, load up her armor, her guns, and meet Bray. Still no idea how she's going to explain all of this to Liara.

Maybe the asari won't be awake.

Maybe she'll stay asleep until Shepard's back.

Maybe the power of friendship will thaw Aria's icy heart and she'll teach the Reapers how to love. The soldier chuckles to herself. Joker would love that. Oh, he's another one that's going to be pissed she's leaving him behind.

She sighs and stares at the garden near the taxi stand. Flowers…Some of them look familiar. Liara deserves flowers, at least. Clutching her bag, the soldier hops the fence and heads towards a tall clump of pink blooms on stiff, spear-like stalks.

"Hey! Back off! No touching!" An old man who looks too frail to stand up to a stiff breeze bears down on her like a charging krogan. "You kids today are all—" He stops in front of her, wheezing and puffing. "All—the same—No respect—" His eyes narrow on her. "You're that Shepard kid. Leading the fight. Didn't anyone teach you any manners when you were a kid?"

"Yessir." He reminds her of her grandfathers. "Sorry, sir."

"Huh." The rigid politeness drilled into her while growing up seems to mollify the man. "Well, I can't say I'm surprised you're poking around the gladioli. 'Flower of the gladiators.' Good choice for a warrior." He nods and brushes his fingers against the slim petals.

"I wasn't looking for me."

"Well, if you're looking for something for your best guy, you don't want those. They mean 'go easy on me.' Have a fight?"

"Not yet." Shepard grins sheepishly. "We're heading for it though. I've gotta leave on a solo mission in less than an hour."

"You haven't told him," the man accuses with a chuckle. "You young people are all the same. Cowards. No!" He tugs Shepard away from the bunch of flowers that caught her attention. "Peonies. Either mean, 'I'm ashamed of you,' or 'congratulations on your wedding.' Good for scaring your man away. New relationship?"

"We've known each other for a long time."

"Doesn't matter if the two of you used to share teething rings. It matters how long you've been doing the horizontal tango."

"Ah…_what?_"

"That new, eh?"

"I—Who—That—"

"I've got a seven-year-old great-nephew with a better poker face than you, Shepard. Hard to believe you're our best hope against those big machines." The man leans on Shepard's arm as he leads her deeper into the garden. "You blush like a little Catholic schoolgirl," his free hand reaches across his body and pokes her in the side. "Stop here." He bends down and picks a sweet-smelling blue flower. "Going away? This is the one you want. Not the flashiest, but it smells like heaven, and it's a promise to be faithful."

"Oh." Shepard takes the flower, rolls the thick, waxy stem between her fingers. "I like that."

"Good color too."

"Yeah, blue's nice. I like pink, but—"

"Pink hyacinths mean you're feeling playful. Not serious enough for what you need. Plus, blue is manly."

"That too, I guess. Not that manly is really an issue for, uh, her."

"Her?"

"Yessir."

He drops her arm and starts storming away. Despite the fact that she knows he isn't really either of her grandfathers, Shepard's stomach sinks. She reminds herself that she's in love with Liara, and she's not embarrassed, and that judgmental strangers can go to hell.

The old man turns around and scowls at her. "Why the hell are you just standing there? We're going to the greenhouses. Shit, Shepard, if you're taking off like a coward and leaving a _woman _behind, you'll need more flowers. Dumbass. I tell you, you're lucky I found you…. Wait, here, take a rose. Just one! No, not pink, you want red for your girl! Passion! Come on!"

* * *

_**Author's Note: **Not from me though. From Owelpost. For the record, I disagree with both her complimentary and less-than-complimentary assessments of my abilities._

* * *

The following is a public service announcement...

Midnight Lion: adored by many, suspected by none.

Some of you may be wondering what I mean by that. Well, my name is owelpost and I am here to tell you that the Lioness possesses a vast amount of SECRET EVIL! (I do have evidence to support my claim: Cry, Baby, Cry. Yes, that's right, a little blue baby was KILLED!). I feel it is my duty to bring to light this evil that festers beneath the surface, so I have challenged ML to a dual. We are going to take turns writing your favorite Mass Effect characters into the most unbelievably awful scenarios possible. In order to succeed, we'd like to request that our readers give us some prompts. If you have an idea, feel free to PM either Midnight Lion or myself. Oh, and she may deny her desire to participate, but secretly she's excited. Trust me on this.

This has been a public service announcement. You may now return to your regularly scheduled activities.


	67. Spectre: Aria

_**Author's Note: **I don't normally like putting an author's note up here, but what I have to say merits being read before the chapter. _

_The reviews/comments section is a place for discussing the strengths and weaknesses of my writing, my storytelling, and my characters. I enjoy seeing the reactions readers have to what I've produced, and I genuinely like communicating with those of you who are so inclined about this silly little fanfic. That said, I do not consider the reviews/comments section a place to discuss personal opinions about other authors on this site, especially not when such discussion delves into what, in my opinion, constitutes improper attacks on another author. _

_Honestly, I've loved writing this story, and a large part of that is because of the great interactions I've had with readers. In the future, I'd just ask that we keep public discourse on-topic and civil. Say whatever you'd like to me in a PM, but please think twice before posting a review/comment, and please refrain from making disparaging remarks about others, in any capacity._

_And now, back to your somewhat irregularly scheduled session of awkwardness. To which I am once again indebted to Owelpost for being willing to suffer through innumerable iterations of these chapters and help me make them not-quite-so-awful._

* * *

**Spectre: Aria**

Asking for help like this….

All of her instincts know it's a mistake. They've been screaming at her since she sent that message off to Shepard. _Weak_, they say. _Wrong_, they say.

_Beware_, they say.

No matter what else she might be, Shepard is a Spectre. Aria has been alive long enough that she doesn't need to remember what that means. She _knows_. The way she knows to breathe, the way she knows how far to push the Council, knows what cut to take from the merc gangs on Omega, knows she's going to taste Oleg Petrovsky's blood on her tongue the first chance she gets. _Knows_.

Even when Shepard steps onto the bridge looking like a weak, small, soft thing: hair down around her shoulders; still wearing that coat that's too loose through the chest and too long in the sleeves; eyes wide and pretty and wary, Aria knows that the human is a Spectre. Her boots are old and worn, but polished. Laced tight up the front. Cared for and relied on, the way only a real in-it-for-life soldier cares for her boots.

As if that isn't enough to give her away, Shepard's shoulders are held _that way_. Easy, but square. Daring someone stupid, someone looking to make a name to _try_ and bring a fight her way. Straight in the way only a lifetime of fighting in an organized military can make a person's shoulders straight. There are turian generals out there who have less backbone in the war-room than this soft-chinned little human has when she smiles and pretends to relax.

But Aria knows. A Spectre isn't dangerous. A Spectre _is_ danger. Incarnate.

A Spectre is danger, but even a Spectre isn't Aria T'Loak.

"Nice of you to finally join us, Shepard."

**…**

"Have you ever lost someone you loved? Someone too young? A kid?"

Strange enough to be awake at this hour. Strange enough to be alone with Shepard.

The woman looks lost. Tired. Her hands are flat against the glass of the observation window in front of her, as though she might start doing pushups at any moment. Her eyes are dark in the dim light of the room. Empty and alone. Aria recognizes the miserable expression from all the times she's seen it in the mirror when she's been alone and thinking of her daughter.

It doesn't matter.

"Don't talk to me like we're friends." They both know if Aria hadn't demanded payment for saving Miranda Lawson, the human wouldn't be here. The galaxy only gives you something if you can afford it.

Liselle is none of anyone's fucking business. She never was. Not even her father…Who the _fuck_ does Shepard think that she is?

Aria goes back to her cabin. She doesn't pace. She doesn't need to. She doesn't need motion or exhaustion to fall asleep and have sweet dreams.

All she needs is to picture their faces. Kai Leng. Oleg Petrovsky. The way their jaws will go slack and their eyes will go empty with pain. The way they'll twitch and squirm when they realize that they've shit themselves in fear. The way they'll look in that instant before they die, and even better, the instant after Aria's finally sent them to hell.

**…**

Her people are embarrassing her in front of the Spectre.

After Aria catches one of the navigators stuffing holos of her kids back into her pocket as she and Shepard exit the elevator, she considers trying to retake Omega solo. It's either that or put a bullet through the human's skull; something about the woman turns Aria's crew of killers into a cluster of kittens, and she can't allow it to continue.

"I didn't hire you because you've got solid family values," she snaps at the batarian. "Get back to the bridge."

"It's all right," Shepard says. "She wasn't bothering me."

"What the fuck makes you think any of this is about you?"

**…**

"She _what?_"

"Um…" the younger asari looks distinctly uncomfortable. How old can she be? Two hundred? Three? Just a kid, really. Definitely not in the matron stage yet.

"You were talkative enough a second ago," Aria points out. If Shepard is upsetting the rest of her crew, she needs to know about it. Not that she'll kill the Spectre. Contrary to popular opinion, she isn't _that_ violent. Most of the time. And she's _never_ unimaginative. The human is nothing if not temptingly attractive. The tiny, stupid part of Aria that's ruled by her clit and her azure and that full, welcome feeling you get when you meld with someone willing, wants to try fucking the problem out of the female. The rest of her knows better, thank Athame. "I suggest you rediscover your fondness for gossip." _Before I cut your tongue out and ask someone else_, she adds without speaking.

"She screams, matri—ma'am. In her sleep. It…To be honest, it's freaking the rest of us out."

"I'll bet." Her tone is sarcastic, but her words are sincere. Shepard has killed more Reapers on her own than the Protheans managed to kill in hundreds of years. Whatever could possibly give the woman nightmares…Aria doesn't want to know.

The asari makes a command decision. They'll reach Omega soon enough, but in the meantime it's important that all her lieutenants manage to sleep. The fight doesn't start until they've got boots on the station and are leaving footprints stained in Cerberus blood. Hard to kill human extremists if you're exhausted.

"I'll move into her bunk."

It's been centuries since she had to share living quarters with other people; she's always been a poor asari. At least when it comes to her sense of community. Aria's always been private.

(Her mother had been the same way. A side effect of knowing that there was an ancestral house, title, and land on Thessia that the matriarchs had seized for reasons Aria's grandmother had never been interested in sharing.)

But the alternative is letting the human keep terrifying her people. The alternative is inviting failure in this bid to retake Omega. The alternative is being like Shepard, afraid of something she won't admit to being afraid of.

Unacceptable.

**…**

Shepard needs to wipe that damn look off her face. Aria knows that expression all too well. She sees it every time an employee tells her they're not renewing their contract. They've met someone, and they're moving back to the homeworld to raise a litter of brats, because Omega is no place for family.

"Knock it off," Aria orders as she sits across the table from Shepard and tears her meal substitute open.

The Spectre stops tracing circles on the arm of her too-big jacket and looks up, startled. "What?"

"Knock it off."

"What am I—"

"Spare me the confused primate act. There's only room for one at the top; other people make you weak. Take it from someone who knows."

Shepard smiles faintly.

"Something I said funny?"

"You can drop the attitude; I'm not one of your thugs," the woman shakes her head. "I was just thinking that I should stop making friends with criminals. Makes it harder to do my job."

"We're not friends."

"I know. But we should be. You get me. Do you know how rare that is?"

"Don't go forging me a bracelet. You're not my type."

"Good. You're not my type either."

Curiosity gets the better of Aria for the first time in a long time. "What _is_ your type?" She's never heard any rumors about Shepard's romantic life. Unless you count those porn vids that came out after the human took down Saren.

Shepard frowns. She looks away, rubbing the tab on her jacket's collar between her thumb and forefinger. "Dangerous," she finally says.

There is no definition of 'dangerous' in any known language that doesn't describe some facet of Aria's personality. She wonders if it's worth the effort to be offended. "Dangerous?" she scoffs. "What, you're into krogan?"

Another one of those thin smiles. "Only a quarter of the time." When the Spectre looks up, her eyes are dark. "You were right; people make you weak. The galaxy can't afford Commander Shepard caring whether she lives through this or not."

**…**

"I—" Aria stops herself before she can say 'I'm sorry.' Thank Athame. There's something about Shepard that turns Aria into someone else. Into the huntress she hasn't been since she was too young to know power is worth more than sentiment. There are dead memories that roar back to life every time she talks with the human. Dangerous. Spectres are danger.

She tries again. "What the fuck did you say you want?"

The soldier blushes, fidgets again. Her shirt doesn't have sleeves. The muscles of her shoulders and arms twitch like she's a red sand addict in withdrawal. Aria decides she likes the puckered scar on the woman's left shoulder. From a bullet. The imperfections make Shepard more real. Not whatever the Council and the Alliance have tried to create on the vids, the hero they've tried to cobble together out of her smile and the things she's done. That scar could belong to anyone. A real person.

"A pen." Her features are still, stoic, but Shepard's red face betrays her. So does the way she bites her lip. "A pen, a pencil, anything to write with." She blushes a deeper shade of red. "Please." The word is a whisper, painful and pleading.

There's something there. Aria remembers it from the older asari in her commando troupe. Back when she was a maiden, full of energy and idealism, convinced that if she was just _good_ enough the matriarchy would restore the T'Loak house's ancestral home and holdings to them. There's something there, in the human's eyes. More than pain.

If she'd asked for drugs, it would be easy to say no. The woman's sold her skills to Aria. At least until the Queen of Omega is back on her throne. A pen can't kill or dull Shepard, though.

"Bray." The batarian is always at her elbow. She misses Grizz. "Get the commander something to write with."

Shepard's shoulders slump. She smiles, weak and tired. There are only ten hours left until they reach Omega, but the soldier looks as though she's already fought her way through the station. If a pen helps, she can have as many as she wants. Aria only accepts the best. Shepard needs to be the best.

"Thank you." The words are soft and quiet. Uncomfortably sincere. Aria doesn't like the way she likes the human's voice.

"Whatever."

**…**

She decides that it's ironic that Petrovsky accuses _her _of letting defeat cloud her judgment yet _Shepard_ is the one whose hands ball into fists as she gets into a shouting match with the man.

"End transmission," she orders the comm tech before things get too out of hand.

Shepard is still glaring and sneering when the channel cuts out. Passion looks good on the human. Puts color in her cheeks. Too bad that color isn't blue. "'Perhaps deep down you fear success,'" she mutters angrily. "I'll show him what success looks like. Miserable fucking terrorist _fucker!_"

"Save it," Aria orders.

"Fuck you!" _That _makes the CIC go quiet. Everyone knows that no one talks to Aria that way. Everyone but Shepard, apparently. The human is breathing hard. "You want Omega back?" she snarls. "Get me on the ground. I'll kill them all."

She doesn't look like the woman who stepped into Afterlife a year ago, with the easy-if-bitter smile and the big guns and the two-human entourage. With the jokes and the loneliness radiating off of her. With friends and family and things she wanted to live for. With hope.

She looks like danger.

Spectre.


	68. Awkward: Samantha

**Awkward: Samantha**

"…terrorist. Really. One of the most-wanted women in the galaxy."

"You're putting me on," Samantha accuses, looking up from the chess problem she's teasing out on her datapad. "She looked more like a model than—Wasn't she wearing heels? I'm not quite as gullible as you like to think I am, you know."

"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy." Diana shakes her head. "I never joke about my work."

"Work? Terrorist or not, the woman's in intensive care. Or…something. What are you planning on doing? Keeping vigil by her bedside until she wakes up and you can interview her?"

The reporter shakes her head and grins. "Not today. I've _finally_ gotten Commander Shepard nailed down for the day-in-the-life piece my producers have been pestering me for. Miranda Lawson's bed will just have to wait for another day."

"Bed_side_."

"I know what I said."

Samantha wrinkles her nose to express vague distaste for her friend's earnest, casual promiscuity, and looks back at the chess problem.

"Jealous, Sammy? You _know_ that I'd much rather sleep with you than with any—"

"Keep away, letch." The specialist leans back in her chair before the other woman can touch her. "For the last time: I'm not going to sleep with you."

"You always say that," Diana pouts. "_None_ of the women on this God-forsaken ship will sleep with me."

Charity is a virtue. Reaching out, Samantha pats the pale woman's hand. "If my standards ever plummet to abysmal depths, Di, you'll be the first to know."

"I hate you so much," her friend replies through an improbably huge bite of meal substitute.

"Breaking another heart, Specialist Traynor?"

"Breaking ano—" Diana sputters indignantly, clearly offended that hearts have entered into the conversation at all. She glares sullenly at Major Alenko as the man grins and takes a seat next to her.

"So, if neither one of us are Traynor's type, Allers, then who is? Does she even have one?"

"EDI," the reporter replies without hesitating.

Cheeks flaming, Samantha stabs her finger at random keys on her datapad, trying to distract herself. Then she freezes, horrified to realize that her carelessness has brought her dangerously close to breaking her hundred-day streak of beating the chess problem on the first try. She hasn't lost since the Reapers attacked Earth. It's good luck. Her own superstition that beating the puzzle lets Commander Shepard beat the Reapers. Who knows what could go wrong if she lets these two distract her?

"Is that so," Kaidan teases. "You're more into crew members that're synthetic than ones that're sympathetic?"

"That was terrible," Diana murmurs.

"I like you better when you're on duty," Samantha grumbles without looking up.

"Well, then you should be thrilled with me right now," Kaidan replies. "Until the commander gets back, I'm the _Normandy's_ acting CO. No downtime from that!"

Samantha thinks to herself that it's funny the way Kaidan has taken to calling Commander Shepard by her rank these past few weeks. People fall into habits it would seem, even with their speech patterns.

"Gets back?" Diana pounces on the offhanded comment. "Gets back from where? Why isn't she here? Where's Shepard? Why isn't she here? When is she going to be back? _Why isn't she here?_"

Kaidan's eyes are always heavy, half-lidded, almost sleepy. He's so different from Shepard, who is incessantly, almost manically energetic. Sometimes Samantha wonders how the man managed to move up the ranks, let alone be inducted into the Spectres. Even under the reporter's barrage of verbal fire, even as he sits up straighter, his eyes don't widen. Maybe it's that constant, irritating calmness that makes the Alliance see something important in him.

"Spectre mission. Something to do with getting more allies for the war, but whoever's considering helping us out wanted her to come alone. I'm not sure where, or for how long."

"You're not…You're not _sure?_" Judging by the look on Diana's face, the woman is moments away from murdering the messenger. Or kidnapping Steve, hijacking a Kodiak, and trying to hunt down and murder Commander Shepard. One of the two. Possibly both. After a moment, anger starts to ebb and give way to horror. "I—Oh, God, my producers! I—I could lose my—I'm going to _kill_ her!" Anger comes back with a vengeance, blossoming into outright fury. "I don't care _how_ trained she is, or how many Reapers she's murdered with her bare hands, I'll _kill_ her!"

She almost sounds convincing.

"If you manage that, I'll sleep with you. Even though it'll mean you've doomed us all to extinction at the hands of the Reapers. Hands? Do they have hands? Or are they tentacles? Is that the proper term? Do either of you know?" Despite the fact that she's genuinely concerned about her friend, Samantha apparently can't turn off her smart mouth.

It turns out that that's a good thing.

"I—You'll—" Diana's stares at Samantha as though she's seeing her for the first time. For a moment, they're strangers. Then she blinks and smirks, and they're Di and Sammy again. "There's my silver lining. I'm holding you to that, Sammy." She crumples the wrapper of her meal substitute as she stands up. "Excuse me, guys. Apparently I have dozens of frantic, apologetic, and threatening emails to send."

Once Diana has left, Kaidan frowns at Samantha. "Is it wrong that I kinda like her more now?"

"Because she threatened the commander? Are you hoping she'll ask you to lead the mutiny?"

The major's face takes on that weighty, brooding look that Samantha first noticed a day or two after Thessia. "No," he says. His voice is as heavy as his expression. "I don't rock the boat." Samantha thinks the words sound like a mantra. She's always wondered how the man stays so serene all the time.

"Shepard finds so many good people."

Kaidan blinks at her. "Uh, thanks, I guess."

"Said that out loud, did I?"

"You're a good one yourself, Traynor." A very small smile flickers to life on Kaidan's face. "Hey, I heard your family's all right. I'm glad."

"Me too." How else is she meant to respond? Scuttlebutt says that the major's father is missing, presumed KIA on Earth. She tries to imagine living, fighting in this war, hiding on the _Normandy _all while knowing that her own father was gone from this world. She doesn't think she can—doesn't think she wants—to imagine a galaxy without Papa's eyes-only smile, without the incomprehensible parables he tells when life throws problems at his family.

"I'd be a little worried if you weren't glad. You think Shepard has a knack for picking up good people? She's also good at picking up heartless psychopaths. You met Wrex." Another tight smile, as if at a joke. "I'd hate it if you turned out to be a heartless psychopath. Who would I play Goh with?"

"Well," Samantha tries to smile, "I've been teaching Liara to play. And Miranda Lawson is reputed to be a genius…."

"You'd pawn me off on them?"

"In this hypothetical I'm a psychopath." She smirks and glances back down at her datapad, scowling at the chess problem she still has yet to solve. "It would be perfectly in character to abandon you to lesser players."

"Lesser players?" A blue hand slips into her field of vision, tracing a solution to the problem. "And now white is out of check," Liara says as she sits. "Lesser players," she sniffs again unwrapping her meal substitute and taking a delicate, offended bite.

"Show-off," the communications specialist complains affectionately. "Where's your jacket? You're practically blue with cold," she adds lamely, trying not to stare. "You look…different. Not bad," she amends quickly. Not even a blind person—not even a _vorcha_ could ever think Liara looked anything but beautiful. Today the asari just seems…different. Maybe it's the fact that she's not wearing her coat. Samantha doesn't think she's ever seen the information broker's bare arms before. She definitely would have remembered the particular blend of muscle, softness, and intriguingly textured blue skin that she's trying so hard not to stare at right now.

Funny, she's never thought of arms as particularly alluring. (Let alone dangerous: those biceps should really come with warning labels. Samantha thinks that she would volunteer to tattoo warnings on Liara's arms if she thought she could trust herself not to get distracted to the point of marring that unsettling perfection. Do asari typically get tattoos? James says that batarians—No. Focus. On something other than those incredible—Get ahold of yourself, Samantha!)

It's something more than Liara's arms, even though those arms are _splendid_. It's something in Liara's eyes, a something that's halfway between a glow and a shadow, if that even makes sense. It's something about Liara's smile, an odd, bright sadness. Who knows? The point is that there's something off with the asari, with Samantha's friend.

The comm specialist would like to help, if she could. "I—Are you all right?"

"I am fine, Samantha." The words are almost as warm as the asari's smile. Why doesn't either one feel right? Liara fixes her gaze on Kaidan. "Is there any reason I should not be?"

"No," Samantha admits, feeling smaller and younger than she has in a long time. "You just look different," she repeats lamely. "Not bad. Not like there's something wrong. Different." Liara looks older and younger than she has ever looked. Samantha wishes her friend trusted her enough to speak frankly, but she doesn't say so. Those sorts of thoughts are selfish. She hasn't even known Liara for that long, really. And she's not like Commander Shepard: impressive and good-looking, the kind of person someone like Liara can't help but look twice at.

Oh, _shit_.

"Hey." Kaidan's rough voice makes Samantha jump a little. She glares at him, knowing that she's acting like an offended cat and not caring, because he _startled _her, damn it all, and she's not about to admit that she was so absorbed in Liara that she forgot that he was sitting across the table from them.

The major ignores her. He and Liara seem fixated on each other; they stare without so much as flinching, let alone looking away. If it weren't for the sad expression in the man's eyes and the challenging expression in the asari's, Samantha might assume that they're in love with each other. It's clear that they understand each other well.

Part of Samantha—the sensible part, she admits—wishes she was safe at another table, nose buried in her datapad, searching out another chess problem, maybe a math problem, or a Christmas-themed mug. She isn't quite sure what's wrong, but something is. She wants to be anywhere else.

Except that she doesn't. Damn perfect arms.

"Li." _That_ grabs Samantha's attention, practically nails it to Kaidan. The man is no James; he's not one for nicknames. Despite his sweetness, his gentleness, the softness that years in the military couldn't sift out of his soul, he is still a soldier. Vega. Traynor. Allers. Vakarian. T'Soni. Even his friends who have been his friends for years, through impossibly hard times, are addressed by their last names, kept at arm's length. The way true soldiers distance themselves from anyone who could be dead tomorrow. Which is to say everyone, Samantha supposes.

But this. "Li, _are _you all right?" the man asks again. He sounds as though he's pleading. As though he's concerned. As though he's just won a bet. Samantha doesn't understand, and thinks that's probably for the best.

"I'm _fine_, Kaidan. I am not the one imagining problems where there are none, just so I can forget my own disappointment!" The words fly across the table. Kaidan blinks and flinches, as though he's been hit in the face by rocks. Then he hardens. Samantha suspects that she's seeing the face he wears into combat.

Well. This is…

"I'd rather not have this conversation, Liara," Kaidan says with his usual, unreasonable gentleness. "Not again."

Awkward doesn't seem to properly cover it. Is there a word stronger than awkward? Samantha tries to focus only on her datapad, and calls up its dictionary. Then switches to the thesaurus. Awkward, awkward. She pretends she's deaf to the unacceptably fascinating conversation swirling across the table. Synonyms for awkward.

"'Again' implies that what occurred between us before was a conversation, rather than your visceral reaction to—" The asari catches herself, and suddenly Samantha can feel the weight of that blue stare; she tries even harder to become invisible. "To the way things are," Liara finishes.

**Embarrassing**—On the right track, but too pedestrian. Every time Samantha catches herself staring at Liara's bare arms, she's embarrassed. Embarrassment happens with too much frequency to fit this situation.

"Oh, well, I'm sorry if you were expecting me to smile and say I would be fine with everything."

**Stroppy**—Fun to say, certainly, but not the proper word this time.

"I was not expecting—"

"Do you even remember how I found out? How the two of you 'told' me? Garrus and Steve _carried _her off the Kodiak…I thought she was going to _die_. Explain how _I'm_ the bad guy for not giving you a hug and telling you I was fine with her just deciding things between us were over—not talking to me, like an adult in a relationship—Just _deciding_, and not letting me know until she's lying on a cot in the medbay making out with you like the thoughtless, _heartless, _idiot teenager she is!"

**Uncomfortable**—Not nearly intense enough.

"How can you call her heartless—"

"Jesus, Liara, are you seriously sitting there and defending her? Again? What the hell is _wrong _with you? You're going to sit across the table from me looking like someone's kicked you in the gut and you're going to tell me—"

"I _know_ Shepard. After less than a day—"

**Ill at ease**—The phrase implies that circumstances can actually cause some kind of physical harm. Not perfect, certainly not strong enough for what Samantha is feeling, but probably as good as things are going to get.

"I am so damn sick and tired of hearing about how you _know_ Shepard, how you've got this _connection_ with her, how you _understand_ her…. I know her as well as you do, Liara. Just because you can reach into her mind and pull out all the stuff she never says out loud—Humanity got along fine for thousands of years before the asari and their damn 'melds.' Taking Shepard's emotions out of her head isn't the same as her opening up and _telling_ you. It's not—it's not as good. Not as real. It doesn't mean the same thing it would if she told you."

Well. This makes Specialist Traynor feel ill at ease. _Very _ill at ease.

"Do you think I am some sort of monster?" Liara's voice is very quiet. "That I would just _take_ from Shepard, without a care for her privacy? Without considering that there are things she needs to keep from me?"

"The face you were making when you came into the mess? I recognized it. I've seen it in the mirror a thousand times. I think you got blindsided, and you're trying to remind yourself of the good things about her, all the ways she makes you feel better, not worse. It's easier if I'm just bitter and wrong. But I'm not, and believe it or not, I'm sorry for that."

Unable to contain her curiosity any longer, Samantha risks glancing up. Kaidan and Liara are each pale shades of their respective skin colors, identical stony expressions on their faces. To the specialist's surprise, Liara looks away first, face and cheeks darkening.

"Nothing hurt like this before." She admits it as though even the words pain her. "Not having her was easier somehow."

"I know." Some of Kaidan's hardness softens as he slightly unclenches his jaw. His hand lifts, hovering uncertainly over the table, as though he'd like to touch the asari, but doesn't think she'd let him, or doesn't think that it's the right thing to do. "Believe me, Liara, I know. She's…she's like that."

Samantha knows that the others haven't forgotten her presence, but they pretend to. For the sake of whose dignity, she isn't certain.

"She never means to hurt anyone," the major adds. "She just doesn't know how to be who we want her to be."

"I don't want her to be anyone else; I just want her to be _here_."

Kaidan's smile is bitter. Samantha wonders what he's remembering. She wonders how she managed to miss the fact that he had been involved with Commander Shepard. She wonders why the commander is oblivious to the fact that her actions have consequences even on a small scale. She wonders when she can make an exit to plan her will. She wonders which one of the two others sitting at the table will try to kill her to ensure that she never speaks of what she has overheard.

* * *

_**Author's Note: **I know, another one, just your luck. Thanks again to Owelpost for reading so many versions of these chapters, putting up with incessant whining about how Sam 'wouldn't talk to me,' and being so strongly committed to quality that she refused to let me post any of the earlier, inferior versions of these chapters. _

_ccryder, I've enjoyed reading your comments, and would've liked to chat with you about them. Please know they're appreciated!_

_Finally, these chapters are unofficially dedicated to ReyDupre, who not only left me one of the most touching reviews I've *ever* read for *anything,* but who also recently celebrated a birthday!_


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